


Boarding

by Judayre



Series: Boarding Houses and Smithies [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo, Why am I doing this?, messing with the timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin goes to Bree to find smith work and stays in a boardinghouse called Bag End.  The Hobbit woman who runs it draws his attraction right from the start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arolfe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arolfe/gifts).



> There was a plot bunny put up for adoption yesterday. While I never intended to write gender swapping, it obviously took up residence in my brain. When I went looking for it again this morning, the idea was missing. If you are the one who had the original idea I'm playing with here, let me know. This is completely for you.

For all that Bree was a city with no other nearby, it was remarkable in its lack of metal workers. It took Thorin a very short amount of time to negotiate the use of a forge for the season. And Bree being where it was, it could be a long season - it would take him only a short time to return to Ered Luin where his family was, so he could stay long into autumn.

Proximity to the Shire meant that the Men of Bree were used to dealing with people who were smaller of stature than they were, and Thorin felt far less condescended to than he usually did away from his home. And when he asked after rooming houses, he was directed to Bag End.

It was a large house, built partially into the side of a hill in the style favored by Hobbits, and had ten rooms for let. It was run by a young Hobbit woman, one Mistress Belladonna Baggins. She looked up at Thorin, and he thought her a strangely plain woman for one who was so obviously beautiful.

Her hair was copper colored and long, curled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Curls of it had pulled out to frame her face in a way that was lovely but obviously accidental. She had a fine, determined jaw with a strong chin under lips that were neither too thin nor too generous. Her eyes were the dark blue gray of stormy skies, and he sensed a bit of that storm behind her calm expression. They were darkly lashed in a way that almost disguised the fact that she wore no color on her face. There was no artifice about her.

She dressed like a settled woman despite her youth, and simply as a working woman. Her blouse was clean, white linen and she had a bodice of deep, forest green over it. Her skirt was coal gray with white snow drops embroidered on it, the green of their stems complementing the green of her bodice. The colors were darker than Thorin had come it expect from Hobbits, but he knew better than to ask. It wasn't his place as a customer and stranger, curious though he was.

She quoted him her prices - by the day, week, month, or year - a longer stay met with a more economical price. He told her his stay would be six months, perhaps a bit longer, and paid the first month's rent from his pocket.

He followed her down the hall to a room that was blessedly the right size. She handed him the key and showed him the wardrobe, the linen drawer, and the clothes basket.

"I do the washing once a week on Fridays. I expect the basket outside your door when you leave for work with everything needing washing in it. I keep anything in the pockets unless you come to ask for it back. Fold anything in need of mending and place it on top. I won't go searching for it."

Her voice was a brisk alto, and he nodded his understanding.

She pointed across the hall. "The washroom is shared for the three rooms in this hall. You should keep your things in here. I don't abide thieves, but things can walk away and everyone meaning the best." She gave him a hard look and he nodded again. He would not walk away with anything not his own.

"Breakfast is seven in the morning, supper is seven in the evening. Try not to be late. Second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, tea, and dinner are your own look out."

This made him stare. He had heard that Hobbits did nothing but eat, but had always thought it was just a rumor. She smiled at his surprise, and his breath caught at how it made her eyes lighten.

"The parlor's to the right of the front door," she said, and even her voice had gentled with the smile. "Lady callers will be met there and there alone."

"And if the caller is male?"

That earned him a sharp look, and her voice fell back to briskness. "Gentleman callers will go no farther than the parlor as well."

He shook his head, stifling a smile at how calmly she dealt with any possibility. "I have cousins who might stop to visit or help with my work."

She looked him over and decided he was telling the truth. "If I've a room open, they can pay to stay the night. If they sleep on your floor they pay a third and are welcome to breakfast."

"Thank you, Mistress Baggins," he said with a bow. "I start work tomorrow, so I will take the time this afternoon to settle in. Should you need help while I am here, please do not hesitate to ask."

She nodded her head in return. "I will keep that in mind, Master Thráinson. I will see you for supper at seven. Tonight is roast chicken, potatoes, and asparagus." She turned and vanished back down the hall to the parlor and her kitchen.

Thorin watched her go, admiring her brisk walk and swaying hips before turning to the task of unpacking himself. He made the bed, using the linens in the wardrobe. There was an extra change of sheets so that they could be washed, but only a single, well-used pillow and one warm blanket. He changed out of his travel worn clothes, conscientiously putting them in the basket, and changed to clean clothes before putting his clothing in the wardrobe. Tools and the few books he carried went on the shelf next to the bed. There was a small basket hung next to the door that he assumed was for washroom supplies, and he filled it accordingly.

There was a small desk and chair, and he put his paper and pens on it. He settled into the chair and started penning a letter to Dís, letting her know he had safely found work for the season, and that he was close if needed. He knew he wouldn't be. She was at least as capable a leader, and spent much more time on it than he did. His part had always been ensuring survival, earning money, and procuring supplies. Dís and Balin were the ones his people went to with disputes and requests.

At supper he met the six other boarders: five quiet Hobbit men and another Dwarf who had dark hair and a perpetual smile. The Hobbits were hired workers, young men who weren't married yet but were too old to comfortably live with their parents. They asked questions about the world outside Bree and the Shire, but seemed content to do nothing but ask.

The Dwarf was named Bofur, and made toys and commissioned wood work. He turned out to be doing the same thing as Thorin - sending money home to a younger sibling with children, although in his case they were also supporting a crippled cousin. Bofur was the one at the table who did most of the talking, which seemed to suit everyone fine. Mistress Baggins only stopped him when he was talking around his food, and even then it was with a smile.

Thorin felt a spurt of jealousy, but put it neatly down. He had only just met the woman. Certainly she was lovely, but that was no reason to feel jealous of her attention. And her attention was on him as well, as she made sure he had plenty on his plate. As he had been told, there was chicken, potatoes, and asparagus. He hadn't been told there would also be three different kinds of bread with butter and jam, or salad, or a strong herbal tea that eased him of the weariness of travel.

He let out a long sigh at the end of the meal, and there was laughter from the other boarders and a gentle smile from Mistress Baggins.

"Took me the same way the first night," Bofur said with a wink. "I think most days I don't bother with a mid day meal because breakfast and supper are enough."

The woman colored slightly. "It's nothing special," she said, swiftly rising and collecting plates.

"No, Mistress Baggins," Thorin said, stacking his things neatly for her. "This was an excellent meal, and I thank you for it."

The others echoed his sentiment, and the color in the woman's cheeks darkened as she ducked back into the kitchen.

The Hobbit men gave greetings again and vanished back to their rooms in the hill, and Thorin was left alone with Bofur. The way the other Dwarf paused to look at him let Thorin know that he, or at least his name, had been recognized. It was not something he wanted to talk about, so he continued collecting dishes and carefully carried them through the door to the kitchen.

"Oh, Master Thráinson! You needn't've--"

He shook his head. "The least I can do is assist with the cleaning. I do for my sister, and she cooks for fewer than you do."  
"Thank you, then," she said, and Thorin was taken by the sweetness in her voice.

He pushed his sleeves up to do the washing while she put away the little that had been left behind, brushing past him as she moved from the counters to the ice box. The feel of her skirt brushing his leg or the air of her movement behind him felt strangely intimate, and Thorin was glad he had offered to help.

The next morning, after a breakfast of truly astounding proportions, Thorin started working at his rented smithy. It seemed that Bree had been awaiting a smith for a long time, because he immediately got work of all kinds, from fixing cookware to forging swords for the guard.

Knowing Bree, Thorin set his prices lower than he would charge in Gondor or Rohan. There was more than enough work to keep him busy for the season, grates and fences, plows and scythes, swords and axes, pots and knives. He worked hard and saved his money. As Bofur had said that first evening, often the two meals a day provided with his room were enough for him for the whole day.

He and the other Dwarf had the conversation he dreaded the second day he was there. Bofur's room was in the same hall, and he was waiting when Thorin came out for breakfast.

"So, son of Thráin."

Thorin shook his head. "I am an itinerant smith and nothing more," he said. "My position is no different from yours. I am here to make money to support my family."

The look Bofur favored him with said that while they had the same goal, their positions were anything but the same. Still, he dropped the line of conversation with an easy smile, and it was never brought up again.

The toy maker was one of the boarders who had been with Mistress Baggins the longest, and Thorin couldn't help envying him the familiarity she let him get away with. He called her "Mistress Baggins" as they all did, but he could do it with a sideways hug or a resounding kiss to her plump cheek. He treated her like a brother would, and she let him with nothing more than a fond smile.

One morning at breakfast, the Dwarf announced, "I'm off for a round of the Shire. Expect me in a week."

He was gone soon after, and Thorin saw how she watched after him until he was out of sight. She seemed on edge that week, and the day he was to return she paced by the windows until she could see him.

The first time Thorin came home late because of work, he was surprised to find the front door unlocked. He entered cautiously, listening for signs of struggle or intrusion.

Mistress Baggins came to the entry to meet him, wrapped in a dressing gown of dark, smoky blue and bright, firey orange. Her hair was down and braided simply for the night, and it fell to the small of her back. Thorin's fingers ached to bury themselves in the thick curls that gleamed in the lamplight.

"I saved you some supper," she said, gesturing him into the dining room. There was a plate set out for him with a wide heel of his favorite kind of bread, a few slices of roast pork with gravy, and candied carrots. A mug of tea finished the meal.  
He stared, then turned to her. "You didn't have to do this, Mistress Baggins," he protested.

She looked away, folding her arms around her body. "I was awake. You shouldn't go to bed hungry. It's all gone cold by now, anyway. It's almost ten."

"Thank you," he said, voice soft and intimate. He watched her cheeks pink, wanting to reach out to touch them and having to consciously hold himself back at the end of the long day he had had. He sat and ate, and she stayed standing behind him, both of them silent until he finished. He bade her a good night, and they didn't speak of it again.

That was the way his late nights went. Most days, he was home in time for supper and ate with everyone, but every night he had to work late, she would be waiting for him. He was certain she did - or would do - the same for any of the others, but it still warmed him that she did it for him. He ate his late supper and they talked of the day just finished. he would tell her of the work he was doing and she spoke of her housework and the other boarders. The time sitting together and washing up after made him admire her more.

Dwalin came at midsummer, traveling back toward Ered Luin from parts farther east before signing on with a caravan as a guard for the summer and autumn. He had sent word that he would arrive midday, and as noon rolled around Thorin shut up shop. They would set Dwalin up in his own room, or on the floor of Thorin's, and get something to eat before opening the shop again.

The door to Bag End was open, which it never was. Thorin went from a walk to a dash in one step, fearing for Mistress Baggins. The scene that met his eyes made him stop on the threshold and gape.

Mistress Baggins stood in the door to the parlor, holding a poker from the fireplace threateningly. Though her hand shook, she stood firm, and her determination and bravery were beautiful. She was facing Dwalin, and it was no wonder she was afraid. The Dwarf was larger than Thorin, bristling with weapons, covered with tattoos, bald, and scarred. At the moment, he had his empty hands up in front of him and was trying to give good account of himself.

Thorin sighed in relief and approached, clapping Dwalin on the shoulder, and forcing him into a bow.

"Mistress Baggins, this is my cousin Dwalin. I mentioned a cousin coming to stay for a few days?"

She wavered and lowered the poker, although she didn't let go of it. "He doesn't look like the kind of man I usually let rooms to," she said, voice faint.

Thorin moved to her side, a steadying arm at her elbow. "I swear to you that he is not dangerous to you or any who are here. I understand he doesn't make the best first impression...."

She snorted, forcing herself back to normal. "I would say not. Burst through my front door like an--" He saw her mouth curve into the start of the word Orc before she hesitated. "Like a conqueror." She laid the poker against the wall and looked at Dwalin again from the corner of her eye. "I had already prepared my luncheon, and there is enough to share."

"We wouldn't put you out," Thorin started.

"I don't want to make hasty decisions about your cousin, Master Thráinson. Despite your good word, I'm still minded to turn him out this instant."

She was a brave one to give him a chance, and Thorin thanked her. He shut the door and walked between the two as they went to the kitchen for a simple luncheon of cold meats, bread and honey, fresh greens, and iced raspberry tea.

Chastened after frightening a woman, Dwalin didn't even complain about the salad and ate with the best manners he could. He kept his voice low, asked few questions, and answered everything put to him. Thorin stayed quiet through the meal except when he praised Mistress Baggins' cooking or talked about Dwalin helping with his nephews.

By the end of the meal, she had calmed. "It is good of you to come help your cousin, Master Dwalin," she said. "How long are you planning to stay?"

"Only a week," Dwalin answered. "If you've room for me, I'd be grateful. I should have enough coin, and I'd be happy to replace your fireplace tools. I noticed that poker looked old."

She gave a small smile at that. "I have been meaning to replace them for years. I would thank you for it." She quoted him a week's rate and led him down to the room next to Thorin.

The two of them worked hard that week. With two of them, they ran through a lot of the current work Thorin had, and they spent time picking out the goods that were needed in Ered Luin for Dwalin to bring with him. The last night he was there, they worked quite late.

As usual, Mistress Baggins was waiting when Thorin walked in. He smiled at her, and her lips turned up in return.

"Where is Master Dwalin?" she asked.

"He's finishing something. He should be back within the hour."

She sighed, leaning against the wall and looking tired.

"You don't have to wait," Thorin said gently.

She shook her head. "It's not so long. I may doze on the sofa while I wait."

Jealousy sparked in Thorin's heart. He had known he wasn't the only one she would wait up for, but seeing the proof in front of him was something he hadn't wanted. "I'll keep you company," he offered, sitting in an armchair across from her.  
The fire was low but it still gilded the edges of her hair. She worried the end of her long braid as they waited, and her eyes grew heavier although they never fully closed. When there was a noise at the door she rose instantly to greet her returning boarder.

Dwalin looked as shocked as Thorin remembered being the first time. He greeted her with a bow, and then stood stunned at the tired, welcoming smile that crossed her face.

"There's supper for both of you," she said, pointing toward the dining room.

"And we thank you," Thorin put in quickly. "You go to your rest, Mistress. We will clean up after ourselves."

Though she looked ready to protest, she was rocked by a yawn. She gave them good nights and went to her rooms in the back of the boarding house.

The next morning after breakfast, Dwalin returned the key. He thanked Mistress Baggins for her hospitality and presented her with the new tools he had made. She held them tightly and when he left the house she looked like she was going to chase after him.

"He will write when he reaches Ered Luin," Thorin assured. "I will let you know."

She looked at him in gratitude. "Not knowing is the worst part," she said softly, before hurrying to replace the tools in the parlor.

Toward the end of summer, some of the workers in the shops around the smithy decided to go out drinking and invited him. It was nearing the end of his time in Bree, and he decided to go. I would be the friendly thing, and he considered many of the Men friends. He knew his limits and would be sure not to get drunk.

Except others kept filling his glass when he wasn't looking, so he wasn't sure how much he had drunk. He managed to stop himself, but the walk home seemed longer than it should have, and the road wasn't always where it should have been. He would know where it was while lowering his foot, but it would be somewhere else when his foot reached where he'd thought it was.

Opening the door was more of a struggle than it should have been as well. He gave up any remaining hope that he had managed to avoid drunkenness, and just hoped - in the small piece of his mind that was still under control - that he did nothing he would regret.

She was waiting for him, eyes narrowed at his demeanor, but he smiled to see her.

"Mistress Bell!" he greeted, using a name he had wanted to call her for months but had never had the bravery to use and stumbling forward. "Waiting like a good little wife!" He reached out to touch her gently, but his large hand met the softness of her cheek with more force than he had anticipated.

She shied back, hugging herself. "You are drunk, Master Thráinson," she said, voice tight.

"Didn't mean to," he apologized, reaching for her braid and groaning at the feel of it. He had moved close enough to feel her shaking, although he didn't know when that had happened. "Scared, Mistress Bell? I'd never hurt you."

"Leave me, Master Thráinson," she said, voice steady.

He was confused that she would say that to him, but he stumbled away to his room.

When he woke, it was late into the morning. He hadn't done more than enter his room and collapse onto his bed, so he was still fully dressed, and the door was open. He groaned, rolling to his feet and thanking everything he could think of that he rarely got hungover. He pushed the door closed so he could change into fresh clothes, cleaned himself in the washroom, and went to apologize.

She was in the kitchen, and when she turned to him he could see how red her eyes were. He dropped to one knee, bowing his head in remorse. "I was at fault. I swear, if you forgive me it will not happen again. You are so small and so brave a woman. But I will offer no unasked for advances, and I will not lose myself to drink again."

There was a bitter laugh, and he looked up to see her clutching herself with one arm, the other hand pressed to her mouth. She was all in black today, skirt so long it touched the floor and neckline high despite the heat.

"Brave!" she exclaimed after a moment, voice a sob. "When I ran away to Bree so I wouldn't have to hear anyone call me that name again?"

She started into restless motion, both hands pressed to her mouth this time. He stayed on his knees, watching silently and waiting for her to continue.

"I had a beau once. When I was a teen we courted, and we would have married. My parents approved, and we were only waiting to be old enough." She stopped at a counter and held the edge with a white knuckled grip as if it was all that kept her standing.

The silence went on so long that Thorin prompted, softly, "what happened?"

She spun to face him. "The Fell Winter. I was twenty one that year, when the crops failed, and the winter was so cold that the wolves came into the Shire. And after the wolves came the Orcs. My Rory refused to spend the night, even though it wouldn't have harmed my reputation. My parents were home and everyone knew we were engaged. But he left, and must have been set upon by the wolves, because no one saw him after he left my door."

She was shaking now, face buried in both hands, and it muffled her following words. "And then the Orcs came and destroyed everything they came in contact with. Both my parents. They were searching for aid against the wolves, and they never came home. I was left alone in that house, Master Thráinson, do you understand? A soon as spring came, I came to Bree."

Her eyes were streaming tears when she looked at him. "Waiting like a good little wife? I wait for you like a scared little girl! All the others have steady hours and I've never had to fear them not returning. But you! Thorin son of Thráin works until his job is finished, and how am I to be sure you'll come home?"

She broke into ugly sobs and collapsed to her knees. He was unsure what was proper for him to do, but he couldn't leave her like that, so he moved to her side. She threw herself into his arms, and he held her tight.

"I will not work late and worry you again," he swore softly.

"That's a worthless promise," she said. "You're leaving soon."

He paused to examine his thoughts and then answered. "I would stay with you, if you would have me." She looked up at him with wide eyes, and this time when he reached out he was able to touch her as gently as he meant to. He swiped at her tears with his thumb and ran his fingers into her hair.

"Your responsibilities...."

"I can send money and goods as easily as bring it," Thorin answered, shifting so that she was tenderly wrapped in his arms. "Work here won't dry up. If nothing else, the Rangers will always need things. I can't charge as much here, but work is steadier and the Men more friendly."

She looked up at him with wide eyes and he caressed her cheek again. "I would stay with you, Mistress Baggins, if you would be _my_ Mistress Baggins. My beautiful Bell."

She began to cry again, slipping her arms around him. "Yes. Please stay, Thorin."

He felt justified in kissing her tears away, and comforting her for as long as she needed him to.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin Oakenshield becomes a family man.

"Thorin Oakenshield, king without a mountain, what did you do to her?"

Thorin turned to find his doorway filled with angry Dwarf. He was silently amazed for a moment, because he had never seen Bofur angry before. Even his strange hat - only off his head at mealtimes because Bell insisted - seemed to bristle with anger.  
"I have thrown myself on her mercy, and she has seen fit to forgive me," he said simply. "I was the worse for drink when I came home last night, and I brought up memories that upset her. That is all."

"That is all?" Bofur asked incredulously. " _That is all?_ You think I don't have eyes? You think I don't see your handiwork in her hair?"

"Ah..." How could he explain. Best to give the simplest, most direct answer with his questioner angry. "I asked her to be mine. She agreed."

Bofur's eyes widened, and his teeth ground together. "So help me, son of Thráin, if you hurt her again.... Never think her alone just because she has no family."

Thorin stood, turning the letter to Dís over for privacy. Keeping his face open so that his sincerity wasn't hidden behind a stoic mask, he pressed a fist to his heart. "On Durin's honor, I will work for her happiness. I will be her family, and she will never have to be alone."

Bofur wavered and his anger fell from incandescent to mildly suspicious. "Planning to drag her to Ered Luin and surround her with Dwarves?"

"I will stay here with her. Letters to my sister and Balin will go out tomorrow." He hesitated. "We plan to wed in spring. I know she would like you to stand with her...."

Summer faded into fall and others learned of the change in Bag End. Thorin spoke to the heada of the crafters about extending his stay as blacksmith indefinitely. When asked the reason, he didn't hesitate to explain his engagement. He wasn't ashamed of Bell, no matter his status as a wanderer or as a king without a kingdom. She was his match, and no one could convince him he'd done wrong in offering to stay.

The other boarders took longer to realize what was going on. They were solid, dull young men, and as long as they had their food and their laundry they didn't pay too much attention. But the subtly brighter patterns on Bell's clothes and the change from a tight bun in her hair to intertwining braids was one that eventually caught their attention.

They weren't angry like Bofur had been. They knew Thorin as a hard worker and clean in character, and hadn't been aware of Bell's red eyes the morning after his one indiscretion. A spokesman from among them - Jepsen Potter, a hostler who was the only one among them over thirty three - sat down with Thorin to discuss propriety.

Until the wedding, he was to stay in his rented room. If she wanted to let him out of the rent, that was her own business, but they absolutely were not to share a room. He nodded understanding. He wouldn't have presumed a change in sleeping arrangements, and the question of stopping rent had never been brought up.

They would have to court in public. It wouldn't be seemly for them to spend too much time alone. Thorin nodded again. They had been sitting in the parlor together, and he had begun helping her with the preparation of their meals as well as cleaning up after them. Jepsen agreed that those were acceptable.

And then he glanced around, leaned in, and murmured that _a little_ time alone behind closed doors was perfectly allowable. Thorin smiled blandly. There was no way he was going to tell the little man what he knew of the feel of his Bell's lips and the sounds of her pleasure.

He would need courting gifts, especially since they were skipping a traditional courting period. Food and kitchen wares were always popular. He pointed out the new gold charm Bell wore around her neck. He had made it himself, with some help from Bofur who was more used to working easily malleable material. He explained the significance of a love knot, and Jepsen quieted.

By mid autumn, he still hadn't heard from Dís. He was starting to grow worried. It had never been so long since he had heard from her before. They corresponded regularly, filled with instructions, status, and gossip. To have been without a letter for two months strained patience.

He was considering his options one afternoon as he closed the shop to go home. He couldn't - he wouldn't - go to Ered Luin to find out what was going on. Apart from the fact that everyone would try to keep him, it would be at least a month and he would leave Bell alone. Sending another letter would do little if it wasn't going through or if Dís was angry and not answering.

He had just about resolved to find a messenger when he arrived at Bag End and heard familiar voices. Brows rising in surprise, he stepped to the parlor door to find his sister and nephews taking tea with his Bell. They looked up at him, and Kíli was still young enough to cry "uncle!" and run to him. He hugged the boy absently and looked a question at Dís.

"I am discussing with my sister," she said primly, placing her cup neatly back in its saucer, "what kinds of work I might set my boys to here outside the mountains."

"You've followed me here," he said slowly, and her eyes flashed.

"Of course we have! You're not returning to Ered Luin, so that's not if place anymore. If your home is Bree, then our home is Bree!"

Fíli told him that night, when Kíli was already asleep sprawled on the floor of his uncle's room, that he had never seen him so open in his pleasure at seeing them. He said it shyly, sitting up next to the bed and letting Thorin pet his hair. Thorin smiled fondly in the darkness and told him that he was always happy to have them near. Despite the darkness, his nephew's smile was like a lamp.

They found a small apartment nearby - the third floor of a Hobbit owned house that had moved up out of necessity. The rent was good, as Hobbits were rarely willing to live so far off the ground. It wasn't much: two small bedrooms, a sitting room, a kitchen, and a bath shared for all three apartments. But it was the right size, and it was theirs.

Despite his youth, Fíli found a job with the guard. Kíli, with Jepsen Potter's good word, was taken in at the stable. Dís took in washing, and spent many afternoons with Bell. They talked about Thorin and about marriages, children and childbearing, houses and homes. Dís helped sew Bell's wedding dress and made Thorin's new suit herself.

Thorin kept his promise. Through the winter, no matter what he was doing, he closed shop so he could be home on time. Some days he closed early so he could spend time with Bell alone, and his days off were divided between his family and his fiancé. He fixed the pipes in Bag End, saw to the locks, reframed the windows, and fixed anything made of metal. They went on long walks when the weather allowed, went to theater performances, sat next to each other and talked for hours. Dís had brought his harp, and he played for his Bell, and sang her songs of his people; songs from happier times.

And some days, when no one else was in, she would bring him back to her personal rooms under the hill. There wasn't nearly as much talking those days, although they learned a great deal about one another.

By the time the flowers came up, they were more than ready. As Hobbit weddings went, it was very small. The other boarders were there, and some of the craftsmen that Thorin worked with, and family. Bofur stood with Bell, head proudly held high as he walked her down to Thorin. Dwalin had appeared unannounced just days before the wedding, and he stood with Thorin. Fíli and Kíli played on their fiddles, and Dís sang.

Bell was gorgeous. Dís had done her hair for her, braiding and coiling it. With the traditional flower wreath woven in, she was crowned with more beauty and majesty than many queens. Her dress was white with green vines climbing up it. They were for luck and fertility, he had been told. Her bodice had long skirts. It was a pale yellow with darker gold stitching that. Dís must have done, because it was in the pattern of one of the more recognizable symbols of Durin. She wore the love knot necklace and a matching pair of earrings.

She was beautiful, walking at Bofur's side to meet him, head high. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, her smile small and private. He took her hands in his own, and nearly missed his cues because he was drowning in the blue of her eyes.

The feast afterward was huge and full of his favorites, but he didn't taste any of it. It had been half a year, but the fact that Bell had bound herself with him made every other thought and sense fly away. He knew he was grinning like a simpleton, but he could do nothing else. He wore a ring to show he was hers, and she had a matching one. That night, he would be able to follow her back to her rooms - _their_ rooms now - and make love to her as long as he could. There was a promise of all of their days together. It was more than he had ever expected for himself.

They settled easily into married life. His things were moved back into what had been her private rooms. Sharing a bed didn't take much work to get used to, and finding her pressed against his side and wrapped in his arms in the morning was more than worth the trouble of figuring out how they fit. They had already cleaned out the empty rooms, hoping that they could be filled with children.

Within a month after the wedding, they found that Bell was with child. Dwalin smirked at them knowingly when they made the announcement. When Bell's cheeks darkened, Bofur elbowed him in the ribs. It wasn't enough to hurt the old warrior, but it did have the desired effect of turning his smirk into a true smile.

Bofur made them a cradle, carved with runes of health and safety, Durin knots, and flowering vines. He refused payment, saying it was a gift to them. And then, as a gift to the child, he made half a dozen carved toys. Dís and Bell worked at sewing and knitting, making the warm things a baby born in winter would need. Thorin, Dwalin, and the boys painted and set up the nursery as a surprise.

And the name! Frerin for his lost brother. Bungo for her dead father. They never serusly argued, but the question of a Hobbit name or a Dwarf name became one of the most common, and everyone had an opinion or a suggestion.

What they weren't prepared for was a daughter.

"Thorin, they want you," Dís said, coming out of the room with an amazed smile. "Your wife and the prettiest little girl I've ever seen."

Thorin stared, and then everyone was pounding him on the back. A girl! There was barely a one in three chance of a Dwarf child being born a girl, and every one was more precious than mithril. Wordless with wonder, Thorin entered their room.

Bell smiled tiredly at him, their daughter bundled into her arms. She lifted the baby for him to take, and he held the tiny being as if she were glass.

"We never though of girl's names," Bell said, calling his attention. "You just assumed it would be a boy and I got caught up in it. Now what?"

"How do Hobbits name girls?" he asked, making sure his voice was low and wouldn't disturb the baby.

"Flowers and gems, mostly. I've a cousin Ruby somewhere in the North Farthing. And, of course, Belladonna."

He made a face at the though of naming his daughter after a flower. But gems. Those were appropriate for a babe that was half Dwarf. He looked down at the tiny face, stroking a finger down her downy soft cheek.

"Chalcedony," he said after a moment. He looked up at Bell's questioning expression. "It is a stone whose crystals are so small they hardly exist. They can be made to any shape you want, even perfect circles." He sat next to Bell and ran his palm down the plumpness of her cheek and she laughed quietly.

"Chalcedony," she repeated as if testing. "It's a lovely name."

He lay down on the bed, holding the child and kissing his wife. She hummed tired appreciation, returning his kisses and curling up against him. I the end, he was holding two sleeping women, and he couldn't have been happier.

He started to notice, the following spring, that there were more Dwarves in the city. Not huge amounts, but enough so that he noticed. He and Dwalin took a young one on as an apprentice in the smithy. There were one or two more in the guard with Fíli. A youth about the age of his nephews hung out the sign of a scribe from a tiny apartment.

They all wore braids of Erebor and bowed to him when they passed. Each time, he resolved to tell Bell the one thing he still kept from her. And each time he came up with a new excuse not to by the time he was home. They had Ered Luin. They had Bree. He needed nothing more than what he had. Bell didn't need to know.

He was with Bell and Chalcedony, taking a walk through what had always been called the "low" section where the Hobbits lived, now joined by Dwarves. They turned when their names were called to see Bofur, proud as a peacock and covered with children.

"Mistress Bell!" he called, motioning them over. "Look who's come to Bree! I've been wintering here for two years and they grew lonely without me!" He laughed, tossing the youngest in the air and both Thorin and Bell stared. There were seven children hanging on him, all under thirty.

"There's five more," he said with a wink, seeing their faces. "They're up helping Bombur and Irris get set up."

They walked in silence until they neared home.

"I didn't realize Dwarf families got that large," Bell said, holding the baby carefully.

"Most don't," Thorin answered. "I was one of three, and I know Bofur only has the one brother."

Bell settled Chalcedony in her cradle and looked up again. "Would you like a large family?" she asked. "Most Hobbits have large families, and I've wondered if you wanted more or just the one."

Thorin smiled tenderly, taking her in his arms. "What I want most is you, happy and healthy. If that means just this one little miracle, that is fine."

"But is that what you want?" she asked, rising on her toes to give him a kiss.

He answered it. "Why is it so important?"

Her eyes met his. "I think I'm pregnant again."

He swung her in a circle and then kissed her again.

Bell's second pregnancy was more difficult than the first. Thorin out his foot down and they took in a young woman to do a lot of the housework. Bell still did the majority of the cooking, albeit with help, but Lily Fuller did the cleaning and laundry in exchange for her rent.

With Dwalin and Kalen the apprentice, Thorin was able to spend more time at home as well. He knew how to care for small children because of his nephews, so he was a big help with Chalcedony, and he was glad to do it. It always made Bell smile to see him, huge from her perspective, holding his tiny daughter and answering her babble with complete seriousness.

He also made time to spar with his nephews and work on their writing and their Khuzdul. Many of the other Dwarves wanted to be involved as well, and Thorin and Dwalin found themselves with almost two dozen youths who wanted to learn fighting. Dís suggested they charge a fee; nothing that would keep anyone away, but something to remind everyone that they were taking time away from their job at the forge to do this and needed to be compensated.

They did as she suggested, and with the fees coming in they found they had to cut back their time even more and hire on extra help. Thorin's little smithy that had been his sole domain when he first came to Bree was, two years later, the source of income for four smiths and three apprentices. And on the side, he taught swordplay, history, and Khuzdul.

Every night he crawled into bed with his wife, one hand curving over her rounding belly, and wondered at the change that a short time made. The fire for Erebor was well and truly gone, and it was hardly a wonder, since the struggle for survival had kept it guttering low for years. But it wasn't despair that had made it go out. It was hope and contentment. And he kissed Bell and kissed the child in her belly, and slept easily and deeply.

Children, as it turned out. The second pregnancy gave them a pair of sturdy little boys, and Bell laughed when she pointed out that they didn't have to argue over Bungo or Frerin this time - they could use both.

They were tiny, smaller than Chalcedony had been, because they had been born a bit early. Fíli and Kíli looked at them in awe, cradling the tiny bodies close and showing them to their year old sister, who was sitting in her aunt's arms.

It was a joy that Thorin had never expected to feel for himself. Children of his own, a beautiful wife he loved more than jewels, a home where he was respected. This life was everything he had wanted for his people and for himself.

The children crawled and ran around all of Bag End. The boarding house was full now, with all the Dwarves moving to the city. Bofur still had his room, and Dwalin had taken the one he had spent that week in. Two of the Hobbit boarders had moved out, but their places had been taken. There were six Dwarves renting rooms, and they spoiled all of the children.

Bell smiled more than she had when he met her, and it made Thorin glad. She worried over the children, but he was able to calm her fears. And there was time. They were so young that her worries of being left behind - of someone leaving and disappearing from her life - were easily set aside. He hoped that by the time they were old enough for the fear to be founded it would fade.

The boys were four when they got a new baby sister. This one was named Amber, her golden curls fascinating the dark haired boys. They sat side by side and held her together with their parents nearby in case of trouble. But though they were young they didn't tire of peering at her and talking to her.

As the years passed, Thorin drew frowns from some of the Hobbits for his ways with the children. All of them, boys and girls, got wooden swords to play with, and little Amber was the best with hers right from the start. Chalcedony was competent but more interested in domesticities like cooking and sewing. And the boys seemed so interested in everything that they had trouble becoming proficient in any of it. The ones who had the most luck with them were their cousins, who were young themselves and able to roll with the changes every time the boys wanted to do something new.

Pearl was a surprise. Amber was seven when Bell found herself pregnant. She was no longer a young mother at forty eight, and Thorin doted on her. Chalcedony and the twins, in their early teens, took it upon themselves to try running Bag End, and the boarders helped them have success to report to their mother. Bell was bed bound for this pregnancy, her hardest yet because of age.

Pearl was not a small baby. She was the largest of the lot of them, and it took Bell some time to recover afterward. But she didn't regret the hardship, because she loved all of her children. She loved seeing Thorin with them and knowing that she helped put the smile on his face.

And there was nothing more that Thorin loved of an evening than to hold the baby and have the four older ones pile on him. He felt younger than he had in years with his family. His amazing family he had never even hoped for, because every hope had been dashed from him in the past. But with Bell and with the children he felt full to bursting with love and pride and everything good in life.

And then Gandalf appeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers about 15 years. Dear lord, there is so much that I could have put in but I didn't. Hopefully it reads well. I'm a little worried about that. Does it seem too fractured? Fret fret.
> 
> Chalcedony is pronounced "kal-SED-on-ē." I think they probably call her Chalce (Kal-say).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf is a jerk and the quest for Erebor begins

Thorin stepped out of the forge for a break, pouring a dipper of water over his head to cool himself. When he looked up, there was a gray cloaked man in front of him and his eyes opened with wonder.

"Tharkûn."

The wizard smiled. "I would talk with you, Thorin Oakenshield."

Thorin gestured to show that he was free to converse. The wizard looked around. "Somewhere more private," he added.  
Suspicion settled around his shoulders, and Thorin tensed. But he called in to let Dwalin know he was leaving. Only when he heard his friend's response did he grab a towel and his shirt and lead the way to Bag End. Fearing what the wizard wanted with him, he took dark pleasure in the difficulty the man had maneuvering in a home built for Hobbits.

Bell came bustling out at the noise and stopped when she saw the wizard. A small smile crept onto her face as she greeted "Gandalf."

He smiled at her. "Belladonna Baggins. I didn't expect to find you all the way out here in Bree."

She blushed lightly but didn't offer information. She directed Thorin to find the Man sized chair and bring it to the parlor while she made tea for their guest. The two men made small talk while they waited, and Gandalf looked gratifyingly surprised when Bell sat down close at Thorin's side.

Thorin accepted a cup, made just the way he liked it, murmured his thanks, and turned to the wizard. "What did you want to talk about?"

Gandalf nodded his thanks for his own cup of tea and then spoke one word. "Erebor."

The cup clattered as Thorin put it down, and Bell looked at him in concern. "We have nothing to discuss," he said sharply.

"Do you really mean to tell me that-- Hello. Is that for me?" Thorin glanced down to see his little toddling Pearl leaning against the large chair and holding out a daisy. "Thank you." The wizard gave her a pat on the head and put the flower into the brim of his hat.

The girl looked quite pleased with herself as she stumbled into her mother's arms.

Gandalf looked at them for a moment before continuing. "You must have a wish to reclaim Erebor."

"We have no need of it," Thorin said, voice low and controlled. "Between Bree and Ered Luin, we have built a life for ourselves. There is no reason to cling to the past."

"That you would say something like that!" Gandalf exclaimed, aghast.

"And why is it so strange for Thorin to look to the future instead of the past?" Bell asked, bouncing Pearl in her lap.

Thorin grimaced, remembering that he still hadn't told her. "Bell, I'll tell you later...."

Gandalf caught her narrowed eyes. "All I meant, Belladonna, was that you would think the King Under the Mountain would be the last to give up hope."

Bell shot a look of shock at her husband and Thorin glared at the wizard. "Bell," he said, consciously smoothing his features and taking her hand. "My _grandfather_ was King Under the Mountain. We haven't had a mountain in over a hundred years. I am what I have been these last fifteen years: a simple smith, and your loving husband."

"The fact remains," Gandalf put in, "that with Thrór dead and Thráin vanished, you are the leader of all Erebor. Wouldn't things be simpler if-- No, I think the worms need to go back outdoors, boys. And the spiders must have homes of their own." He looked severely at the twins, who frowned in disappointment and walked out with their hands cupped around the rejected offerings.

He had hardly turned back to the glowering Thorin when Chalce and Amber swanned into the room with a tray of fresh cookies that they put on the table before dashing to their parents' sides. Amber climbed into Thorin's lap and joined him in glaring at the visitor, and Chalce leaned against the back of the sofa, pressing her cheek to her father's hair in a calming gesture.

"Well," Gandalf said after looking at the family for a long moment. "Perhaps I have another way to convince you." He put his hand into his bag and began rummaging.

"If you're so concerned with Erebor, go talk to Dáin," Thorin said. "I'm sure he would be glad of your help in retaking it."

"Ah, but Dáin would insist on bringing an army," Gandalf said. "It is the type of Dwarf he is. However, if you'll look at this map for a moment...."

Seven heads bent over the map as the twins came back and knelt in front of the sofa.

"It is the mountain," Thorin said after a moment. "I recognize Erebor."

"Look at the hand, father!" Chalce cried, pointing.

"And there's a secret door," one of the twins pointed out with excitement.

"A small one," Thorin said, reading the inscription. "'Five feet high the door, and three may walk abreast.'"

"It sounds like a very big door," Amber said, red-gold curls brushing the paper as she looked for what her older brothers and sister had pointed out.

Thorin looked up again. "A hidden door is no help," he pointed out. "We don't know how to find it and we wouldn't be able to unlock it anyway."

"I happen to have a key," the wizard said, holding it out.

Thorin's fingers closed slowly around the key. "Where did you get these?"

"They were entrusted to me by a Dwarf dying in the dungeon of an evil sorcerer."

"Thráin," Thorin said softly, not guessing. "Why did you not give me this before?"

"By the time I saw him, your father was raving, near death, and could not remember his own name."

"A map of the Lonely Mountain," Thorin said, voice rising incredulously. "Signed by my father and grandfather, and you couldn't figure out that it should go to their heir?"

"I have many duties on this earth, Thorin Oakenshield. Do not think that a wizard is a messenger service. I have given them to you in my own time."

"In your own time," Thorin said, voice gone low and cold with fury as his breath shuddered in his throat. "Yes, because it is too petty a thing for a wizard to find a son and let him know of his father's death. Is that right, Tharkûn?"

He was hardly aware of Amber slipped off his lap at Bell's urging. The children moved softly out of the room, casting worried glances behind them.

Gandalf stood, looking sad and not as if he had done a great wrong. "We will speak more later," he said gently. "Take time to think of your father and what he would have wanted you to do." He shut the door behind him, and Thorin was alone with Bell.

She pried his fingers open and took the crumpled map and key from him, placing them to the side. Then she opened her arms to him, pressing his head to her breast and rocking him like one of the children. He clung to her as he wept for his father in a way he had never permitted himself to weep before. She stroked his back and pressed her cheek to his hair, saying nothing but being a source of strength.

The next day found Thorin at the small apartment shared by Dori and Ori. The younger brother was home alone with his copy work and invited Thorin in.

"What do you know about moon runes?" Thorin asked.

Ori's long fingers wrapped around his mug of tea. "They were written with special, silver pens and can only be read under the light of the moon. The stronger the magic, the more specific the moonlight needed, all the way up to needing the same day and moon phase. Most commonly, though, they were written to seasons or moon phases. After all, something that can be seen every night isn't properly hidden, but something that can only be seen once every two hundred years is of no use to anyone."

Thorin nodded, waiting until the scribe had taken a long drink of his tea before answering. "When I was young, I was trained to know when moon runes were present. I think, had the dragon not come, they might have had me trained to decipher them as well. My grandfather was paranoid at the end and didn't want any possibility of secrets being kept from him."

Ori sat forward, eyes wide, and Thorin wasn't sure if it was amazement at the idea that there was a shortcut to reading moon runes or fear that someone other than a scribe knew about it. He found that he could not ask. He took out his father's map, considered for a long moment, and then left it with Ori while he went to work.

The map was returned to him rolled into a cloth carrying case. For a moment, Thorin thought it had all been for nothing, but the case was double layered and he felt the paper crinkle between the layers.

_"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole."_

The date of the next Durin's day was scribbled next to it, because of course scribes would have some way of keeping track of things like that when no one else did. The date was that year, and the next one not for another twenty. A case of now or never.

"Who will you bring?" Gandalf asked, pleased, when Thorin said he would go.

"This is a suicide mission," Thorin answered. "Even if I manage to succeed, the likelihood of coming home is next to nothing. I will not subject any other to that."

"It is not safe for you to go alone."

"It is not safe for me to go in company!" Thorin exclaimed. "I will not expose any other to this danger."

The wizard was clearly not pleased but dropped the subject. "I suggest you travel to Rivendell, where Elrond may be able to tell you more about that map."

"I do not need an Elf to tell me about my map," Thorin sneered. "But suggestions for crossing the mountains will be welcome."

"Thorin Oakenshield, you are being willfully defiant. Elrond knows many things that are hidden from most people."

"I am not most people," Thorin interrupted. "And if this is all you have to say, I will go to my preparations. I will leave in a week, which should give me plenty of time to get to the Linely Mountain before the end of autumn even if there is trouble on the way."

He left and did not see Gandalf again, although the wizard had assured him he would help him on the journey. He took out his armor and weapons, which he hadn't used for more than practice and sparring in years. They were all in need of care, and he set to it.

He purchased travel food and raided the pantries at Bag End for more. He found warm clothes, his old bedroll, tinder box, and travel dishes. He hefted the pack when it was full, finding it heavier than he remembered. It was strange, really. Before Bell, he had lived out of his pack. He hadn't had a settled home since Smaug had claimed Erebor.

Had Gandalf come twenty years earlier, Thorin would have been as eager as the wizard had expected. But now, Thorin found that his thoughts turned away from the quest far too often. He hadn't told Bell. He couldn't tell her when he would be home, or even guarantee that he would come home at all. How could he tell her?

In the end, a week passed and he hadn't figured that out. He woke early the last morning but found himself alone in bed. It was for the best, although he had wanted one last sight of his wife to keep with him on the journey. He went out the back way to avoid being seen, and made his way to the gate and the pony he had covertly purchased from the stable.

nine cloaked forms awaited him, and he pulled himself up short when he recognized them even in the murky half light of dawn.

"Bell, what are you doing?"

"I will not be left behind," his wife told him. "I will not stay here to wait for word of you. I am going with you, Thorin son of Thráin."

He shook his head desperately. "It's dangerous."

"And that is why neither of you are going alone," Dwalin put in, looking perfectly at ease bristling with weapons he hadn't carried in fifteen years. "It's worse than suicide to brave the wilderness on your own."

"But the children," he said, changing tacks as he tried to keep those he loved out of the foolishness he'd allowed himself to be goaded into.

"Mother will watch them." And damn everything, Thorin had hoped he was wrong when he recognized his nephews. "And we will watch you and aunty. Besides, who will watch the ponies for you if Kíli doesn't come?"

He shook his head. This was wrong. It was his burden, because he was the head of Durin's line. How could he let them go into danger like this? What he was thinking showed on his face, because Bell's jaw set.

"We are losing time, Thorin. We should go." She reached out to him, and he knew he was going to lose. He took her hand and pulled her in for a kiss, before he boosted her onto a pony.

With one last look back at the place they called home, the ten riders headed east.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a group of ten, which is as follows: Thorin, Bell, Dwalin, Bofur, Bifur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Fíli, Kíli.
> 
> They had quite a time making sure Thorin didn't suspect them, but it was worth it in the end.
> 
> Balin is in Ered Luin, running the place. Óin and Glóin are also in Ered Luin. Bombur has a huge family, so he's staying in Bree.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trolls are nasty business.

They moved along at a steady pace. None of them had done much traveling in recent years, and they had left with plenty of time, so they went slowly to ease into travel. They stuck to the east-west road, which had occasional villages and farms along it for the sake of trade. At night, they were able to hire a few rooms at an inn, or pay for space in someone's barn most of the time.

Thorin kept an eye on Bell as often as he could. She had traveled once - the few days between her home in the Shire and Bree, and that had been almost thirty years ago. But though she made faces at the rationing of food, she put up with it with her usual calm grace. She made no complaints about the hours of monotonous riding or how sore it made her. And he had to admit that he slept better with her warm in his arms, whether they were in a bed, a pile of straw, or blankets on the hard ground.

He was glad of them, really. Ori and his nephews were irrepressibly gleeful to be on "a real adventure." Fíli and Kíli hunted to supplement their supplies on nights they camped, and tended the ponies. Ori seemed to have spent the entire week before traveling in finding or copying anything on dragons he could find. He spent the evenings reading by the fire and making notes.

Dori and Bell made sure everyone got enough sleep and food. Dori checked all the packs in the morning to see that they were well balanced, neat, and not too heavy. Bell scrambled on and off her pony to pick greens she recognized from the side of the road. And when they stopped, they were the ones to make sure everyone was comfortable.

Bell was mothering everyone because her children were left behind. It took Thorin no time to realize that, because his thoughts were with his children as well. Would they understand? Would they worry? Was Dís taking good care of them? Bell would curl under his arm in a hired room or before a fire and hum lullabies as if Pearl were there to hear them, and Thorin tightened his hold on her.

Nori and Bifur acted as fore and rear guards. Nori would scout ahead, sometimes on foot. He inevitably came back with something shiny - a few coins that had been dropped, an interesting stone, buttons, once a snail he showed to Ori before leaving it carefully in a tuft of grass. Bifur stayed at the rear, keeping them all in sight. He held his boar spear tightly, eyes always alert for trouble. In the evening he would sit and carve toys that he handed to random children they passed.

Bofur and Dwalin saw to everyone's morale. Bofur was just as high spirited as ever. He joked and sang and told stories until Thorin wondered why his voice wasn't hoarse from it. He still did periodic sales trips around the Shire, making him the most familiar with short travels. He was th least tired of the group of them after a week. Dwalin pulled out his axes and got them all training hard, reminding them of their purpose and making them feel like they might have the ability to do it after all.

Thorin wasn't sure what he brought to the group, but they all seemed glad to call him their leader. He set their pace and chose their rest stops and where they stopped for the night. He trained and wrestled, listened and discussed. And in the dead of night, he buried his face in his wife's hair and wished he was alone and they were all safely home.

They were almost two weeks into the journey. They were camping, as they would be for days since they had run out of farmhouses between the area inhabited by Men and the valley home of Elrond near the mountains. Kíli was tending the ponies, with Ori and Fíli to help him as needed, Dori and Bell had started dinner, and the rest were around the fire quieting themselves.

And then there was screaming. High pitched voices that had to be women or children split the darkness, and all of them were on their feet. Everyone pulled out weapons as they tried to figure out where the sound was coming from. Bell had the iron poker Dwalin had made her the first week he was in Bree, and in other circumstances Thorin would have been amused by it.

"Bell, stay here," he murmured, holding her arm lightly.

"I'm safer with the lot of you," she answered, shifting so it was her hand in his rather than pulling away. "Don't you dare leave me alone."

Thorin leaned in, touching their heads together tenderly. "As you wish," he said softly, pressing his lips to hers. Pulling back, he looked around the group. "Bofur, keep Bell close."

Bofur nodded grimly, moving to sling an arm around her shoulder when Thorin turned to lead the way. His arm stretched back until he had to drop her hand, and it was a hard thing to do.

They snuck through the woods, not thinking to leave someone with the ponies and their things. With the screaming and the obvious trouble, no one wanted to be alone. Finally, they came to a place where they could peer through into a firelit clearing. Bell gave a shriek and was out of cover before Bofur could grab her back, and he followed without thought.

A trio of Trolls stood around a pot holding the struggling forms of two boys, and Thorin was out beside his wife, sword in hand, as he recognized them as his sons.

"Drop them!" Bell shrilled at the Trolls, all fear gone to outrage at the treatment of her boys.

"I told you there's more of them," one of the Trolls said, tossing Frerin to the ground. "And bigger. Dwarves'll make good dinner."

"You have to catch us first," Thorin growled, spitting curses in Khuzdul.

The clearing exploded with Dwarves, the rest of the group leaping in to attack. For a while, everything was a turmoil of movement and sound. Thorin lost track of who was where, but he was certain they were wearing down the enemy, which got slower and clumsier as the fight went on. A frightened shriek of "mama!" made his blood run cold, and he let down his guard to turn and look for his family.

Frerin and Bungo were both on the ground at the feet of one of the Trolls. Bofur was next to unconscious in their arms, blood running from a gash in his temple that must have caught him unaware. Above them, two of the Trolls held Bell by the arms, and her struggles were accompanied by pains whimpers.

"Drops your arms or we'll tear hers off," one of the Trolls threatened, and Thorin saw how the muscles in his arm bunched.

He shared an agonized glance with his wife, in which she begged him silently to take the boys and run, and then he dropped his sword. The others around him followed his lead, eyes on the trapped Hobbit woman who would not thank them for saving her life by giving up their own.

Thorin found himself picked up by the scruff of his neck, shoved into a sack, and tossed to one side. It was almost a relief to have Bell and the boys land on top of him not a moment later. Almost, because several of the others had been tied to a spit and put over the fire in place of the cauldron of stew. He tried to inch his way between the boys and the sight of it, buta low moan of terror told him he was too late.

"Papa," Bungo whimpered, burying his face against Thorin's side.

He had to distract them. "Frerin. Bungo. Tell me everything you know about Trolls."

"They're big," Bungo started, voice muffled and trembling.

"And strong," Frerin added, huddling between his parents.

"Stupid, though. And slow."

"And they smell bad."

"Some of them can't even _talk_ they're so stupid."

"They're bad cooks."

"They turn to stone in sunlight."

There was an indrawn breath and Bell struggled to her feet, hopping forward to get the Trolls' attention.

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded the one monitoring the cooking, who seemed to be the leader.

"Marinade!" Bell exclaimed.

"What?"

She shook herself and spoke quickly. "Look at these Dwarves. They work all the time, and they were just fighting. They're all muscle and no fat, so the meat is going to be tough. And then you just throw them over a fire? It will be like eating stone! No, leave them until tomorrow with a good marinade, and that will take care of it."

One of the others clapped his hands. "Let's do, Bill! It sounds like she knows what she's doing!"

"Shut up, Bert. I know what I'm doing too."

"Wouldn't know it to eat your food," the third muttered.

"Don't think I missed that, Tom. If you want to try doing for yourself, just say the word."

Frerin had peeked up at his mother's voice, and now he piped up. "Don't let him talk to you like that, Tom! Who does he think he is?"

Tom glanced over, and his already grim expression turned darker. "He's got that right. Who d'you think you are, Bill?" He stepped forward and gave a shove.

"Are you just going to let him get away with that, Bill?" Fíli asked, catching on to what they were doing. "After all you do for him? Does he cook for three hungry Trolls every night? No! You're the one who does all the work!"

"He's right about that," Bill said, shoving back at Tom so he stumbled and put one foot into the fire.

Tom howled in pain, Bert wailed in sympathy, and Bill looked on with grim satisfaction. Meanwhile, Nori sliced through the back of the bag he was tied into and began to surreptitiously free Thorin and the boys. While Fíli inched toward where there weapons were piled, Bert happened to look over.

"Here! They're trying to scarper!"

Bill and Tom were suddenly united in an attempt to catch Fíli, but they didn't seem to understand how to coordinate between them. They rushed him, although Tom limped heavily through it, and Fíli was able to duck away as they came close, causing them to hit into each other and collapse in a heap.

"Thick head of yours broke my nose!" Bill exclaimed, one hand covering the hut part of his face.

"And you damn near burnt my foot off, so we're even," Tom growled. "Get off me!"

He pushed at the other Troll, levering himself into a sitting position in time to see the lightness of the sky. He panicked, but there wasn't even enough time to yell a warning before he and his friends froze to stone stillness.

As soon as they were certain, Nori raced forward to throw the spit off the fire. He sawed at the thick ropes, freeing his brothers and the others who had been tied there. Ori was more than half hysterical, trembling in his brothers' arms, and Fíli wouldn't let go of Kíli. Bofur was still woozy and not completely coherent, and he was supported between Bifur and Thorin.

"There must be a cave nearby," Nori said when they'd had a chance to calm down. "We should find it. Might be something good in it."

Thorin agreed, and left Bell in charge of Bofur while they explored. She had been rearmed with her poker, but Thorin couldn't help thinking she needed something better, especially with how her eyes darted nervously at the woods as the rest of them moved into the cave.

It stank, of course. Dead and decaying things were strewn around, because Trolls didn't know enough to keep their sleeping place clean. It was also strewn with treasure of varying kinds. Nori was, of course, interested in the gold. Thorin saw him slip coins into hidden pockets in his own clothes as well as Dori's and Ori's.

Fíli, Kíli, and the twins were examining jewelry, and he heard the names of their sisters and mothers as they looked. He smiled at them, and moved deeper in where he found armor and weapons that had been hidden as far from the Trolls as they could put them. Dwalin was there already, examining swords and axes.

"Elf make," he pronounced. "Good, though. Old." He passed a sword with a single edged, curved blade to Thorin, and the Dwarf felt the blade sing to him. When he looked up, Dwalin nodded understanding. "And I think this could do for Bell."

They had been having the same thoughts. Thorin smiled smally at him and accepted the second sword. It had a double edged blade and curved smoothly to its tip. It was small for a sword, especially if it was Elf made. More a dagger, really. But finely made, sharp, and well balanced. Yes. He could teach his Bell how to use this and ensure her safety.

He nodded toward the entrance and they returned through the cave, picking up the others as they went. The boys had picked out gifts and had them in pockets or looped over their arms to put in packs later. Thorin couldn't see anything from the hoard on Nori or his brothers, which meant the thief had them very well hidden. Bifur didn't seem to have anything either, and Thorin wasn't sure if he had forgone taking a prize or if he could hide things well himself.

Bell reached out her arms when they got back to the clearing, and the twins fell into them, hugging her tightly.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, swatting them both on the back of the head.

"We're Rangers of the North," Frerin explained. "We tracked you."

Thorin's lips tightened. It should have occurred to them that the boys wouldn't stay behind when there was an adventure to go on. "And how did the Trolls get you?"

This time they looked embarrassed. "We're Rangers of the North," Bungo muttered. "It's our job to get rid of Trolls and Orcs and evil things."

There was silence. "You attacked a trio of Trolls on your own?" Dwalin asked, aghast. "Are you mad?"  
They hung their heads.

"When we get to Rivendell, we can come up with a proper punishment," Thorin said.

"You're letting them come?" Fíli asked. "They're barely thirteen!"

"It's only another day to Rivendell. Easier to go forward than back. And we need to get Bofur somewhere he can be properly tended."

That sobered them up. They looked at their hurt companion and helped him to his feet. He stumbled between Thorin and Bifur as they made their way back to their own camp, with Bell moving concerned lay behind.

Gandalf was in their camp, sitting and smoking his pipe. "Ah," he greeted, sliding it back up his sleeve. "You've finished."  
"How long have you been here?" Dwalin asked in a growl.

"Someone had to make sure the ponies didn't run away," the wizard answered reasonably. "You had it all under control, so there was no reason for me to interfere."

Thorin caught Dwalin's eye. They would discuss this later as well. Bofur needed them. Dwalin nodded understanding and moved to help Kíli saddle and load the ponies. Thorin helped boost Bofur on in front of his cousin, and took one of the twins with him while the second got on Bell's pony.

They rode through the day, all suffering from lack of rest but pushing on for Bofur. Gandalf led the way, because he knew the way to Rivendell best and there were so many small valleys that opened suddenly in the land before the Misty Mountains that they could have been weeks searching and only minutes away without knowing it. As the sun started to set, the house of Elrond opened at their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flight from Orcs is movie only, and I decided to skip it. Among other things, Azog has no reason to know that Thorin is on the move.
> 
> Timing guesstimated using a map of Middle Earth. It's about twice the distance from Bree to the Trollshaws as it is from Hobbiton to Bree. It took Frodo and Co about 4 days to travel the one, so at a good clip it should be about 8 for the other. They're taking it easy, so I doubled that.
> 
> Also, Gandalf is still a jerk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time spent in Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I exist!
> 
> Now, of course, I have to figure out what I'm going to do with Goblins and the ring. Thoughts?

There was laughter and singing as they carefully descended into the valley. With everything that had happened, Thorin didn't think it quite fit the mood. It gave the boys the wrong idea about the nature if the journey, and it grated on nerves worn to shreds by battle and sleepless travel. But as he turned to cry for them to stop, he saw that Bofur had a - somewhat addled - smile on his face. And his friend had been partially incoherent and in pain all day.

They were being examined, or else the direction of his gaze was being followed, because a dark haired Elf dropped from a tree at the side of the path and started talking in Sindarin to Gandalf. Thorin's displeasure must have been obvious, because the Elf quickly switched to flawless Westron.

"Mithrandir, what happened to your companion?"

Thorin snapped out an answer before the wizard could. "There were Trolls on the east west road. He was harmed trying to protect my wife."

Bell shivered and hunched over the neck of the pony. She had understood the risks when she followed him, but Thorin could see that it was only now that she understood with her heart that she could lose some of her dearest people on this quest. Frerin, sitting behind her, hugged her tight.

"My father is a renowned healer," the Elf said. "I pray you make use of his skills. Shall I bring your friend to him?"

Dwalin tensed, ready to go for his axes, but Thorin was already nodding. "Please. Bifur, Bell, take the boys with you as well. They were thrown more than once and should be checked." He walked his pony over to Bell's and shifted Bungo in front of her. The pony snorted once, but was able to take the weight of the three smallest members of their party for a short time.

She looked up, brows knotted unhappily, and he leaned over to kiss them smooth. They knew each other well enough that they needed no words before she nodded and turned to follow the Elf. He watched them go, feeling the loss of them keenly, and continued down the path they were on. Before they reached Elrond's house he found himself flanked by his nephews. Neither would let him catch their eye, so he let them comfort him with their presence unthanked.

They were met by a steward who greeted them quite formally and offered a groom and stable space for the ponies. Kíli looked offended at the offer, as though it was a slight on his ability to care for the animals, and walked off with the groom, already speaking of tack and feed. With a look, Fíli chased after them.

They had only just arrived, and Thorin already had a headache. His people were split into three groups, and he had no idea where two of those were. Several of his people were injured, one badly enough to require immediate attention. Not to mention the appearance of his sons where they had no business being, and the lack of sleep that made keeping track of what was distressing him very difficult.

It took a moment to realize the steward had asked him a question, one he had no memory of hearing, for him to realize exactly how tired he was. He prodded his brain, trying hard to come up with an answer, but only yawned. Face red with embarrassment, he looked up at what was technically one of his ancient enemies.

The Elf was smiling down at him. "Please follow me to the guest rooms. Someone will wake you when your friend has been seen to."

Thorin watched the others stumble tiredly into rooms before he went into the one he was directed to. Even his worry over Bell and Bofur didn't help keep his eyes open and he collapsed fully clothed and with his boots still on into sleep.

He started to wake up when the door opened. But even more than half asleep, Bell's footsteps were familiar. She and the boys climbed into the tall bed and curled around him. He wanted to ask how they were - how Bofur was - but he couldn't do more than murmur lovingly and wrap them all in his arms.

It was much later when he finally woke, although the sky was still black. The moon - just past full - lighted the room, including the bruises on Bell's arms. Thorin ran his fingers over them, thought of Bofur with his head bashed open fallen into his son's arms, imagined what lay ahead, and made a decision.

They were as tired as he had been, because even untangling himself from the pile of family didn't wake them. Even the sound of his boots on the floor didn't wake them. Even the door swishing open and then closed again didn't wake them. And he was both grateful and sorry for it. He would make no stops. One Dwarf on his own could live off the land through the mountains well enough, and he wanted no delays.

"You're missing your sleep."

Thorin didn't jump, but it was a close thing. "Dwalin," he hissed, "what are you doing here?"

The other Dwarf passed a hand over his eyes, still leaning against the wall. "You aren't the only one with someone warm waiting for you, so let's do this fast. You will not disappear in the middle of the night or we will hunt you down with dogs. You are stuck with us. Now go back to bed."

Thorin gaped as Dwalin opened the door to his own room. He paused and turned. "And don't think I'm not serious, Thorin. We know what waits at the end of this road, and you aren't making us turn back. Even if you try to sneak off, we will still follow you."

Thorin stood in the hall for almost half an hour thinking about what Dwalin said. He knew it to be truth. They all knew the purpose of the journey, and vanishing wouldn't put them off it. They knew where he was going, so they would just continue on the way. The best way to keep them safe was to be with them and protect them.

In the end, he slipped back into the room, removed his shoes, and eased back into bed. Bell blinked sleepily at him and snuggled close, fingers burying in his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She would have woken without him and panicked, he knew. And he didn't want that. He buried his face in her hair and tried to think of a way that this could end without all their deaths.

The following morning was bright and clear, and the spirits of the whole party rose. After the ordeal of the previous days, they had had a proper night's sleep in real beds, even if those beds were made for people far too large. There was the promise of food, and hopefully plenty of it as they hadn't eaten on the ride the previous day. In fact, they had been distracted from making supper by the Trolls, so it had been a day and a half since they had eaten, and they were all feeling it.

And the Elves must have anticipated that, because breakfast was substantial. There was warm grain cereal, with cream and sugar to be added as desired. There were savory pastries filled with eggs and sausages. There was bread to toast with more flavors of jam and jelly than even Bell could name. There was not water for tea, several different juices, and glasses of milk for the children.

Once Thorin had taken the edge off his hunger, he looked around at the Elves. They were mostly dark of hair, unlike the Elves of the wood near Erebor, and they sang and laughed as they ate. When he was young he would have called it frivolous, but he had come to appreciate any happiness he could find in the years of exile.

It couldn't just be their host's family sitting with them, because he knew that Elrond had two sons and a daughter and there were many more of that sitting around the tables. His eyes lingered on the youngest, a small boy with rounded ears who sat between Elrond and one of his sons. Of the daughter there was no sign. It was hard for Thorin to tell ages of big people, but he thought that the boy would be younger than the twins although taller than them.

Thorin finished eating long before Bell and the boys, and he kept a hand heavy on the boy's shoulders so they couldn't vanish on him. He was determined to let them know the severity of the trouble they were in before anything else happened.

From further down the table, Bofur's voice raised in opposition to the silly Elf song with one of his own. It was apparently not one he had made up, because Nori and Dwalin picked up the tune and harmonized with him. Bifur droned along, a pleasing rumble to tie everything together, as he nibbled on the center pieces and used an uneaten flower to lure a bee away from the diners. Dori leaned against Dwalin's shoulder and seemed to be counting and recounting their party to make sure they were all there.

Ori and his nephews had their heads bowed together, and he was sure they were planning what they would do in Rivendell. Thorin caught Dori's eye and nodded to the trio. He would be busy with disciplining his boys and couldn't take the time to find out what the three who should have been their youngest were up to. Dori nodded and turned to join the whispered conference.

As soon as Bell was finished, they dragged the boys back to their room. Dwalin trailed after them to make sure they weren't disturbed. They sat the boys next to each other on the bed and just looked at them for a moment until they were already starting to curl up in shame.

"What were you thinking?" Bell asked, arms crossed over her chest.

"You were going on an adventure and we wanted one too," Frerin said, voice only half whine.

"Adventure," Thorin repeated with a scoff. "You thought we were going on a pleasure trip and leaving you behind?"

"And what about your aunt and sisters?" Bell asked before they could respond. "How do you think they feel, not knowing where you are?"

They hung their heads.

"As soon as we can get someone to bring you, you're going home."

"No!" Bungo exclaimed. "We came this far! You didn't know we were tracking you! We did a good job! Why can't we go with you?"

"We are on a long and dangerous journey," Thorin said. "This is not fun. It is hard work."

"We can work hard!" they both cried.

"Can you?" Thorin said softly. "Very well. While we are in Rivendell, you are to be available to Kíli to help with the ponies. You will assist in the kitchens for meals. Dori and Fíli will supervise while you clean and tend the weapons, and you will help Bifur and Nori get us resupplied. You will spend at least two hours daily on weapons practice with Dwalin."

"And what extra time you have, you will spend in the library with Ori. Or you can sit and read to Bofur. You have missed two weeks of your studies already!"

"And then we can go with you?" Frerin asked hopefully.

Thorin glared darkly at them. "If you are lucky, we will not send you home trussed as cargo. This is your punishment for following when you should have stayed home." He opened the door and told Dwalin the punishment that had been decided on. Dwalin nodded and collected the boys to start on it.

"If we're lucky, they'll want to go home by the time we're done here," Bell said.

"That is too much to hope when they followed us here in the first place," Thorin pointed out. "I they complain, they should accept being sent home in disgrace, but if not it's better to have them with us where we can keep them safe than following after."

Bell nodded her understanding, clutching her hands together over her heart. Thorin took her in his arms and kissed her. "We will keep them as safe as we can," he promised, wishing he could guarantee to her that they would come home safe and unchanged but knowing he couldn't.

They sat together, and Thorin brushed and braided his wife's hair. The familiar act soothed both of them, and when it was done they felt they could interact properly with the others. Thorin led the way out to where they could hear raucous weapons practice going on, and he smiled at the sight of both the wins ganging up on Fíli. Their blond cousin held each off with a different sword, and Kíli called tips to the boys and warnings to his brother.

The little human lad that had been at breakfast was sitting on the sidelines, watching with excitement and longing. Thorin walked over, and he looked up contritely.

"Do you have a sword, lad?"

His eyes gleamed as he nodded.

"Go get it, and see if you can teach my boys a thing or two."

As the boy raced off, Thorin turned to make sure Dwalin knew he was getting another student. Dwalin wasn't paying attention, because he was presenting Bell with the dagger they had found her in the hoard.

"You go tend those hooligans. I will teach Bell."

"Don't go easy on her because she's your wife," Dwalin said with a snort. He tugged on one of her braids and went back to where Frerin and Bungo had dropped their swords and were climbing up Kíli, who laughed and tumbled cartwheels to make it difficult for them.

Bell knew the basics from watching and helping the children, but she was clumsy and had never practiced. She listened to Thorin's instructions seriously, the encounter with the Trolls enough to make her realize she needed to know how to defend herself. They worked long past the time Thorin would have called a halt, because Bell insisted. She would not make up in a day what she hadn't practiced for years, but she was determined to try.

The boys worked in the other side of the field, going through sword and bow with the lad who lived in Rivendell. When someone came to bring them to help make lunch in the kitchens, the lad went too. They stopped their work for lunch, and while Kíli dragged the boys off to tend the ponies, Bell and Thorin met with Gandalf and Elrond.

Despite Gandalf's hinting, Thorin didn't produce the map. He knew all he needed from it, and it was too new a legacy from his father to share with outsiders. The key nestled on a chain under his shirt, and he didn't show that either.

Instead, he asked for advice in crossing the mountains. They spent several hours with maps, tracing trails and discussing goblins and giants and the best ways to avoid them.

They spent five days in Rivendell before Elrond declared Bofur fit to keep traveling. It was time pleasantly spent with family and friends both old and new. Several of the Elves came to the morning practice sessions, and Bell and the boys all benefitted from the extra instruction. Afternoons were spent in conference with Elrond or in the library. Evenings were spent in storytelling and singing, and the deeper voices of the Dwarves were welcome in the chorus of the house.

If the boys complained of their punishment, it was not done where any could hear. That in itself was a feat, as they were monitored constantly. The night before they left, Thorin told them that if they were still interested they could come along. Both faces lit up and his heart fell.

In the morning, they lifted their packs onto their backs and said their farewells. Kíli said tearful good byes to the ponies, who were being left behind for their own safety. The mountain passes were often dangerous, and it would be far too easy to lose someone mounted. Elrond had bought them, because the money would be of more use to them once they crossed into Rhovanion. Boys firmly in the middle of the group, they left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bell and the boys have an encounter under the Misty Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortish chapter and from Bell's POV. Next chapter will go back to Thorin and go through what happened while this was going on.

The edge of the platform crumbled under them as they backed away from the Goblin, and Bell had just enough presence of mind to grab both of her boys tightly as they all started falling. She heard her little sword clang to a stop shortly before she landed and rolled, protecting the boys and doing her best to protect her head and neck. She ran shaking hands over the boys to make sure they were safe, and felt two pairs of arms go around her in return.

"Come," she said. "We have to try and find a way out of here."

"Yes, mama," they agreed, and helped her to stand. Frerin passed her sword back to her, and then darted forward with his own still in his hand to scout ahead.

Bungo stayed behind her, eyes behind in case of trouble. Their concern made her smile, and she let them be her guards. She only paused once as they moved, having caught a glint of light where she shouldn't have seen one. If nothing else, there was little enough light for the small, golden ring to reflect. But she tucked it into a pocket to examine later.

As they moved along, they started to hear a snuffling sound, and finally Frerin leapt on something.

"Mama! Run!" he shouted.

But Bell was not going to leave her children to unknown fates, and she moved forward more bravely than she felt.

"Frerin, let him go," she instructed, holding Bungo with one hand to keep him a safe distance. The creature Frerin had caught was shrieking and cursing horribly. As Frerin let go, sh grabbed him and pulled him behind her. "I'm so sorry," she said gently. "We've just been fighting Goblins and he's still nervous."

The creature was moving on all fours, pacing back and forth quickly and muttering to himself.

"My name is Belladonna Baggins, and these are my sons Frerin and Bungo. And you are..?"

The creature looked up at her, face twisted in confusion. "I am? What is it asking, Precious?" His face fell into narrow eyed suspicious. "Doesn't matter, gollum. Should eat all three."

"No," she said quickly. "Come, introduce yourself. It's only polite. You may call me Bell, that's my name. What's your name?"

"Name?" the creature asked, seeming to have shifted back to the curious personality. "Does we have a name, Precious?" The personalities could apparently shift as quickly as a change in body position, because he turned around in a circle and glared up at her. "We doesn't need a name. It's just trying to put us off. I says we eats them all up, toes and all."

But before she could protest again, a look of wide eyed glee overcame the angry persona and the younger seeming one exclaimed "SMÉAGOL!" He laughed happily and came to sit near her but out of reach of the boys' swords. "We is Sméagol. You is Bells and we is Sméagol." He bobbed his head a few times, repeating his name.

Bell crouched down to be more at his level. "Sméagol, do you know how you can help us? We fell down here after fighting some Goblins--"

"Goblins is nasty," Sméagol said, although from the scowl it was the other personality. She dubbed it Sméagol B for ease of thought. "Taste bad too. We likes fishes and bats better, but Goblins is bigger."

"Now Sméagol," she said, and watched his head jerk toward her with the wide eyed almost-innocence of Sméagol and not the cynical suspicion of Sméagol B. This had to be played very carefully. "Sméagol, we need to get out of the mountain. Do you know the way out?"

"Yes!" he said, pleased to be able to tell her as much. "We knows the way out! Safe way out away from Goblinses!" He shifted and Sméagol B was back. "Why should we tell you? Gollum."

"Oh Sméagol," she said, watching as he changed back and looked at her eagerly. "Sméagol, of course we'd pay you for helping us." His eyes narrowed in confusion. "We'll give you something. What would you like, Sméagol?"

He bit his lip, thinking hard. Bell and the boys waited in silence while he seemed to work out the question. "Don't be stupid, Precious," Sméagol B said finally. "They can gets all kinds of food. We doesn't have to eat fishes all the time or hide from Goblinses." A huge grin split Sméagol's face. "YES! Yes, Bells has to bring us food from outside if we shows her the way out."

"Fair enough," she answered with a smile. "We'll bring you lots of food before we go."

He bounded off ahead of them, singing happily as he counted off passage openings. The one he finally brought them down was empty of Goblins, although there were signs that they had been there recently.

Taking a breath for courage, Bell leaned down and patted Sméagol on the head and thanking him. She shooed the boys out first, keeping and eye on the beaming creature as she followed them.

"And now we run, mama?" Bungo asked eagerly.

"No, now we get the poor creature food. We are Bagginses and we keep our promises. He was skin and bones. We'll get him some good greens and herbs, and you can catch some rabbits or birds and maybe get some eggs if there's a nest. And while you're at it, keep your eyes and ears open for Goblins."

"And papa, right?"

She closed her eyes at the optimism of her sons. "Yes. And papa." She knew very little about Goblins, but what she did know told her there was a very small likelihood of seeing her husband again. But let the boys hope. They didn't need to know, as she did, that they were alone.

They roamed the area for an hour, collecting edible flowers and grasses, early berries, half grown onions and garlic. She peeled the bark off some trees to be made into tea or shredded on top of the other things. The boys did find a nest after catching a pair of grouse. They gathered it all together and brought it back to the tunnel.

"Remember that some of this is best cooked," she said. "Can you make a fire, Sméagol?"

He shook his head, holding the food close. She dug her tinder box out of her bag and gave it to him. He grinned at her. "We won't eats you, Bells! You does what you says." Clutching everything to his chest, he scampered back down the tunnels.

And now she couldn't out it off any longer. Gathering the boys to her sides, she looked out at the valley. They crossed it, staying to shadows and cover, and she said no word to them about the fact that they were alone. They needed to find a town. Men, Elves, or Dwarves would help get them home.

Home. Without her husband and friends could it ever be a home again? The boys squirmed, letting her know her hold was too tight, but she couldn't lose them too.

"We have to go back!"

She went still, eyes widening. Was that Dwalin?

"There was always a risk of losing people?"

"Tharkûn, we are talking about my wife and children!"

And Thorin! She trembled. Could it really be? She started running, the boys with her.

"Perhaps you should not have brought them with you."

She burst into the clearing. "As if I'm some kind of luggage! Gandalf, you should know better than that."

She would have continued the diatribe, but Thorin's arms were around her, tremblingly tight, and she was engulfed in his scent and heat and strength. The tight knot in her chest unwound with an almost perceptible break, and she was suddenly sobbing, clinging to him as tightly as he was holding her.

He kissed her head, he kissed her tears, his mouth met hers. And then the boys had wormed their way under their arms to throw themselves at their parents. Fíli and Kíli joined only a moment later, and then the whole group piled together and no eyes were dry.

Bell had no idea how long they stood there, strength coming from them as a group. Thorin whispered to her, of relief and love, and she kissed him like she needed him to survive.

And then they heard howling.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goblins and Wargs and Orcs. (Oh my)

Walking up into the mountains took days. Rivendell seemed to be right at the base, but negotiating the trails up into the mountains was difficult. The twins looked sorry to have come, but they never said anything that would cause them to be sent back, and Bell dropped to sleep every night as soon as they lay down. Thorin stroked her hair and held them all close and reminded himself of Dwalin's words in Rivendell.

The weather held for more than a week, and by that time they were in a pass that Elrond had thought was safe. Then it started to pour rain, and boulders from a distant battle of stone giants began to fall around them. Bell shrieked at the first one, and Thorin and Bofur both dragged her closer to the mountain side of the path.

When Nori came back with word of a safe cave, Thorin sent Dwalin and Fíli to check it through again. Nori glared through his bedraggled hair, but stood aside for them. It was only after Dwalin, who had familiarity with Goblins, proclaimed it safe that Thorin breathed relief and directed everyone inside.

Bell grabbed the driest cloth she could find and briskly rubbed down the twins. Dori did the same to Ori across the cave, with the difference that Ori protested that he could take care of himself. Thorin smiled slightly at the comparison and drew his eyes across the group to make sure they were all safely there.

Nori was assisting Dori by holding his younger brother still and earning epithets that did nothing but make those around him laugh. Bifur hovered around Bofur, disbelieving even after two weeks that his cousin was fully healed. Bofur, for his part, sat himself against the wall, loosening the straps of his pack and laughing at Bofur's fretting. Dwalin was keeping watch at the mouth of the cave, near where Gandalf had lit his pipe.

Fíli and Kíli were exploring the back of the cave, something that was normally dangerous. But they had said it was safe, so Thorin let his eyes drift back to Bell and the twins, holding Bungo while Bell worked on Frerin.

There was a noise and a gasped "uncle!" He looked up in time to see the rear of the cave open and Goblins lay hands on his nephews. His sword was drawn in an instant, and he felt Dwalin at his side as he plowed into the Goblins. He sliced through them and Dwalin cleaved skulls, and more poured out of the door that had opened wider until the cave didn't have a rear wall.

He heard weapons being used behind him, but there was no time to spare even one glance back. There were too many Goblins. Like the legendary hydra, it seemed that for every one he killed, two more appeared. His party had twelve, including the twis but not counting the wizard, but the line of Goblins seemed never ending.

In the end, the numbers overwhelmed them. Orcrist was pulled from his hands, and he was knocked over the head with its pommel so that his ears rang and his head spun. He had to stop fighting then, although he wanted to kick and bite as he was dragged along with his people. He tried to count them, but the blow to his head had left his vision blurry. All he knew was that the needed to find the curly, dark heads of his sons, and the sweet roundness of his wife.

And then he found him, far to the rear of the group. They had pulled away. Despite everything, he breathed relief that at least they might live through this. Before he could draw attention to them, he turned forward. If he wanted to keep his feet - and he did, with Goblins all around who would think nothing of trampling him into the floor or pulling him by his hair - he had to concentrate on walking.

The Goblins were not worried about being gentle with them. They were pushed and pulled roughly through the corridors, manhandled with no concern for their comfort or safety. Thorin hadn't expected any different, and did his best to make sure his nephews and Ori were as far from them as he could manage. In the end, he thought one of the beasts must recognize him, because he was held more firmly and treated more roughly than the others.

And if it protected them, he would offer no protest.

He was flung to the ground at the feet of the Great Goblin, their weapons clanging to the floor practically on top of him. He struggled to his knees, feeling the Goblin leader's eyes on him, and moved no more. Let the Goblins think it weakness or a show of respect if they wanted; he was close to his sword, and only needed to find the right moment.

"What have we here?" the Great Goblin wondered rhetorically.

"They were waiting at the new gate," one of their captors explained, standing menacingly over damaged Bifur but still managing to cringe and show his position relative to his king.

"Had there been a sign that it was yours, we would have moved on," Thorin said, not waiting to speak. Even as a captive, he was royalty and would do what he wanted. A new gate. That explained why they had thought it safe. No matter how much they tried to hide themselves, eventually the very concealment methods they used would show the presence of Goblins.

"And this is?" The giant Goblin looked down at Thorin for a long time. Thorin held his gaze, watching him steadily despite how his head still spun. Finally, the Goblin's face split into a bright smile. "Why, if it isn't Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór! You haven't been seen going through the mountains for at least fifteen years! We'd almost lost hope of seeing you."

He waved a hand, knocking two smaller Goblins over. "Go find Azog and tell him we have his prize."

Thorin's turned to stone in his place on the floor. "Liar," he gasped, unable to draw a full breath.

The Goblin looked back down at him, still smiling. "Oh, did you think he was dead? My, won't you be surprised when he comes to kill you and take your friends as slaves. But you won't be surprised for long, now will you? No. You won't have time for that, because you'll be dead."

Thorin trembled, and realized that he wasn't as much of a pessimist as he had always thought he was. Some part of him had hoped - had expected! - that they would get through this. The prospect of immediate death was terrifying in a way that nothing since Azanulbizar had been.

And Azog. That name was out of his nightmares as well. If Azog lived, he hadn't avenged his grandfather as he thought he had. If Azog lived, he had failed both Thrór and Frerin. If Azog lived.... He was coming, and Thorin would die without being able to say good bye to Bell. He would show no mercy to the small Hobbit and half Hobbits hiding in the mountains.

If Azog the Defiler came now, there would be no hope for his daughters in Bree, for his cousins in Ered Luin. Thorin felt himself trembling with anger and despair, and the Great Goblin laughed to see it.

"Feeling brave, little king? Oh wait. You never were a king, were you? And you don't have a mountain. You have nothing, really. And that's all you are. Nothing." His smile had twisted into angry triumph as he finished.

Thorin looked up and he had a moment to see the Great Goblin's smile fade into fear before Orcrist cut him in two. There was silence for a long moment and then every Goblin in the room started to roar. They converged on the group of Dwarves, but before they got there, a bright light filled the room.

When they could see again, Gandalf was in the middle of them, staff glowing with magic. The Dwarves crowed with glee and leapt for the pile of weapons. The Goblins cowered back, insensed at the murder of their king, but frightened of his murderer and of the wizard.

Some turned to flee, but others decided that they were going to fight. Numbers were in their side, sa well as familiarity with the space they were fighting in. The Dwarves were forced to fight in a tight knot, and without Gandalf they would not have made it out of that chamber. He grabbed up one of the Elven swords Dwalin had found in the Troll horde and struck out with both steel and magic, creating a path.

The Dwarves ran, fought when they had to, and ran more, until it seemed that they had always lived under the Misty Mountains as prey for Goblins. Finally, they saw a hint of light ahead and raced out into the dawn - on the east side of the mountain. The paused only a moment in wonder, then continued their headlong race to the relative safety of a copse of trees.

"I have to go back," Thorin gasped as soon as he had breath. "Bell is still in there."

"It'll be a slaughter," Dori pointed out.

Thorin nodded. "If they've hurt her."

"You cannot," Gandalf said, leaning against a tree. "We need to get to Erebor, and we do not know when we need to be there."

"We've saved time already," Ori said. "It only took us three days fighting our way out and now we're on the east slopes. It would have been at least three more weeks climbing through the pass."

"Still," Gandalf said. "This is not the time for our leader to sacrifice himself!"

"It is exactly the time!" Thorin snapped back. "My wife and children are there!"

"They are immaterial!"

Silence spread out from the wizard. Orcrist had not been sheathed, so it was no difficulty to raise it up again.

"Tharkûn," Thorin said softly, "does your magic protect you from steel?" He heard a noise and knew Dwalin was coming to back him up.

"There was always a risk of losing people," Gandalf pointed out. "You said so yourself."

"And that means we leave them behind?" Dwalin demanded. "We have to go back! There was always a risk of losing people? Are you mad? Of course there's a risk, but only a coward and fool would use that as an excuse to abandon his own. Are you a coward and fool, Tharkûn?"

It was obvious that the wizard was getting angry, and that he would not budge from his interpretation of events. "Tharkûn, we are talking about my wife and children!"

"Perhaps you should not have brought them with you."

Bell burst into the clearing. "As if I'm some kind of luggage! Gandalf, you should know better than that."

Thorin was stopped for hardly a second. Orcrist was dropped unceremoniously on the ground, and Bell was in his arms before he had a chance to take another breath. He held her so tightly he was afraid she would break, but her arms were just as tight around him. He buried his face in her hair, murmuring to her, words he didn't think she heard over her own sobs.

He kissed her repeatedly, so focused on the magic of getting her back when he had been afraid she was gone forever, that he hardly felt the twins push in to widen their embrace. Nor did he pay attention when the rest of them also wrapped them in security and comfort. Every sense was filled with Bell, and he had no room for anything else in his world.

Until he heard the howling, and then he remembered the threat of Azog.

"Run!" the wizard suggested, and the group broke apart to scoop up weapons once more and resume their mad dash toward the possibility of freedom.

One of Thorin's hands stayed in Bell's, because there was no way he could release her again so soon. This time he did look around, noting that Bifur was helping Bungo and Nori had swung Frerin onto his shoulders. His nephews were encouraging Ori with what little breath they could spare, and Dwalin was as close by Dori's side as Thorin was to Bell. Gandalf, as if to counter the argument they had been making only a few moments before, was helping Bofur. And Bofur needed the help, as the ordeal under the mountain seemed to have caused his Troll wound to be reopened.

Bofur stumbled, and as if in sympathy, Thorin's legs weakened under him. He shook his head sharply to try and pull himself together, but the abrupt movement just made his head spin. He remembered the hit to the head he had gotten when they first encountered the Goblins and thought grimly that he must have some kind of concussion. And no time to treat it.

Bell looked at him in concern, but he just squeezed her hand and kept running. Eventually, they reached a cliff. Looks were shared between them, and hands tightened on swords as they prepared to make a last stand.

"Into the trees!" Gandalf cried, half lifting Bofur into one of them.

"How will that help?" Dwalin demanded.

"I am a wizard! Do as I say! Into the trees!"

Dwalin looked like he wanted to refuse, but Bifur shrugged and lifted Bungo to low branches. After a moment, they were all helping each other to climb to the relative safety of the tree branches. The Wargs couldn't come after them, but neither could they escape. And the Orcs would not be held back as their mounts were.

The wizard's plan seemed to be setting everything on fire, which struck Thorin as a very poorly thought out idea when they were sitting in trees. But they needed to do something and the Wrgs, at least, shied back from the fire.

But then there was a hauntingly familiar laugh and his voice was called in a deep, menacing voice that he had last heard almost a century previously. Azog sauntered through the chaos on the back of his white Warg, as if the blazing fire was nothing to him and he had all the time in the world. He called Thorin's name again, taunted him in the Black Speech, and waited.

And Thorin had so much more to protect this time. His Bell was there. His boys were there. Hs nephews were with him, and his closest friends. His heart quaked after everything he had just been through and with everything he knew and remembered about his foe. But he rose, sword still in hand, and leapt from his branch to confront the nightmares of his past.

He heard Bell scream behind him, but he was already building up momentum. At the last minute, his legs gave out under him and he fell. Azog threw his head back and laughed, before swiping the rising Dwarf back to the ground. Thorin tried one more time, but this time the blow glanced off his head and it compounded the wound he had already received. He spun in a circle as he fell, Orcrist dropping from fingers that had lost all sensation.

He heard an Orc approach as though from a far distance. And then, at the end of the narrowing tunnel of blackness that was his vision, he saw Bell crash into an Orc, send him to the ground, and stab him to death.

The swish of his wife's skirt as she moved in front of him was the last thing he saw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise he's not dead, but people passing out makes a wonderful end of chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They travel away from the Carrock, and everything is made of pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been moving, so I really haven't written much of anything in several weeks. Sorry to drop off the face of the planet like that! Hopefully, I will not have that much of a break again.

"Bell," was the first word Thorin choked out when he regained consciousness, and he hardly recognized the voice as his own.

"Here, Thorin." He turned, the world swimming in and out of focus, and felt his hand held tightly. "I'm here, my darling."

Bell watched him, blue eyes stormy with grief that he hated to be the one to put it there. When he could bring himself to look away, he saw that the twins were flanking her, faces dirty and streaked with tears.

He clutched Bell's hand tightly and struggled to rise. An arm slid under his shoulders and lifted him gently to a sitting position. Looking over, he saw Kíli kneeling next to him, bracing him firmly. The youth's eyes were leaking tears that he manfully tried to blink back. Thorin smiled at him, raising his free hand to swipe his thumb across his nephew's cheek.

The twins moved closer, clambering into his arms. Despite himself, Thorin hissed in pain, and they froze.

"Now, my ducks," Bell said, reaching to haul them back. "Papa has been hurt." Her voice trembled on the word hurt, and the boys clung to her.

"Mama, I don't like this adventure anymore," Frerin whispered, though they could all hear him. She shushed him and stroked his hair, although the tear filled eyes she turned on Thorin showed agreement.

He looked around and finally found Gandalf, standing close and looking relieved. "We need to rest," he said. "Somewhere safe."

The wizard sighed, no doubt thinking poorly of another delay. It was early July and they had until late October to find the door, but Gandalf didn't know that. Nevertheless, he nodded without reluctance. "I know a man who lives near here - two, maybe three days journey walking. He is a friend to one of my order, and may help us."

Thorin nodded understanding. "We will stay-- two weeks, if it's not overstaying hospitality."

Gandalf nodded again. "I will see what I can do," he said. "Once he has heard your story and seen your need, I have every hope that Beorn will be amenable to helping us."

Thorin braced himself against Kíli and pushed to his feet. "Then let us start." He looked around at all of them. "Bofur, can you walk?"

"If you can," the carpenter answered with an attempt at a smile. "There'll be rest at the end, right?"

Thorin looked back up at Gandalf, who nodded firmly.

It was a battered group that stumbled down the Carrock. Bifur fretted at his cousin, who made no jokes to try and deflect the concern. That showed just how much the worry was justified. Dori and Ori stayed close together, the older soothing the younger after the fright they had had. Nori had swung Frerin back onto his shoulders, and Dwalin carried Bungo, although the twins had their eyes on their parents most of the time. Thorin had Kíli to support him, and when the path was wide enough, Fíli moved in on the other side. Bell walked on her own, grip tight around the hilt of her dagger. And though Thorin could see the storm brewing behind her eyes, he could do nothing for her as they pushed themselves almost past breaking in the day's walk.

When she sat far from him, staring into the campfire like it held the mysteries of the universe, he made his tired, painful way over to her and drew her into his arms. With a single glance, Dwalin had the twins off scrounging for food, and they didn't have to worry about them. Bell sat shiveringly still next to him. After a few silent breaths she perceptibly broke, as she had just a day previously when they had met in the shadow of the mountains.

She wept silently, and despite the pain Thorin drew her close, kissing her hair and stroking her arms and back. He remained quiet as well, letting her release everything that was pent up inside.

"I thought I'd lost you," she sobbed. "Twice, yesterday, I thought you were gone. I don't know that I could live through that again. I am not strong, nor brave, and if I lost you, I would lose everything."

"Hush, dear one," he soothed, bending to press his lips to her hair. If he could have promised he would never die he would have, but the nature of their journey made it impossible, and he would not make false promises to his beloved. "I am with you now." He twined one hand through hers so that their wedding rings caught the firelight, nuzzled into her braids, and brought his other hand to play with the love knot she wore around her neck. "These will keep me with you, no matter where I am."

"Thorin," she whimpered, voice broken. She leaned into him, both of them heedless of his wounds.

"I'm sure we can find a safe place for you and the boys," Thorin whispered. "Perhaps this man Tharkûn knows."

"And let you go on without me, and me not knowing where you are or if you're even alive?"

"Not knowing is the worst part," he said softly, remembering. "It will not get easier from here, my Bell. Azog will not give up until he is dead, and there is a dragon at the end of this road."

"I know," Bell said softly, clinging to him. "I knew from the start that it would be dangerous. But if you must do this thing, then I must be here with you."

"My brave beauty," he murmured into her hair, and they did not let go of one another that night.

The next day was much like the one before. In some ways worse, because they were all sore and stiff from their troubles under the Misty Mountains, but other than that the same. They pushed as hard as they dared, hoping for a night in safety and not another in the open.

They still had all their things. Somehow they had all held onto their packs through the ordeal. And while that was good news - they wouldn't need to find a way to restock - the weight on his shoulders dragged Thorin down more than he would acknowledge.

"I can carry something for you, papa."

Thorin looked down. The twins had insisted on walking the second day of their hike, but Frerin's hand hadn't left his own.  
"I'm strong," the boy continued. "I can help you carry things."

Thorin gave the boy's hand a squeeze. "I am a lucky father, to have such a good, willing son." He stopped walking and crouched to be on level with the boy. "I will be fine, Frerin. I promise you that once I have a chance to rest I will be fine."

Frerin's lip trembled, and Thorin missed the days when the twins were small enough for him to carry as though they weighed nothing. With a probable concussion and all of the cuts and bruises he had gotten in the fight, he couldn't lift his son. He pulled him close and let the boy cry on his shoulder.

They had been given room. Thorin didn't have to see to know that. And probably, Bungo was clinging to Bell in the same way that Frerin was attached to Thorin. Thorin did his best to quiet his son, kissing his hair and holding him tight. Finally, all that was left were hiccuping sniffles.

"Having you here makes me stronger," Thorin whispered, holding both of Frerin's hands in his own.

He rose, finding Kíli once again at his side to help him. With one arm holding his nephew to one side, and the other holding his son, Thorin led them to rejoin the group.

They walked. Dori made sure they ate, but it was waybread that they chewed while walking. It soon seemed like life was nothing but the mechanical movement of his legs, the pain spreading through his body, and the sweetness of the boys held in his arms. When Gandalf cheered them on, telling them it was close and it was dangerous to be out over night, Thorin just kept walking, leaning on Kíli.

Finally they stopped, and Thorin was glad to have Kíli and Frerin holding him, because they were all that kept him upright. He hardly had the energy to listen while Gandalf took the boys with him and left instructions for the rest of them. The twins were small and young, and unlikely to arouse suspicion. When they heard his whistle, Bofur and Thorin should follow. They were injured and bring up Beorn's pity. After that, the rest should wait five minutes and come in pairs.

He left, boys' hands in his own, and Thorin wished he could worry about them. But after two days of nothign but walking, and the fight that all he could do was sag in Kíli's arms and nearly lose consciousness. His nephew cried out, and the others clustered around him until he felt he couldn't breathe.

It was almost a relief when the wizard's piercing whistle startled them all. Thorin reached out to Bofur, and the two of them leaned on each other and stumbled along. After a few minutes, they came to a house and a man so large he made Gandalf seem small. He saw their distress and walked over with long strides and picked them up as easily as Thorin would pick up Pearl.

"Your story is best told inside, I suppose," Beorn said, a Dwarf in the crook of each arm. "These two need food and rest, and those tiny boys probably do as well."

He brought them in with gruff courtesy and called for food. Thorin and Bofur were lowered into huge seats that made them look like children, and then Gandalf lifted both of the twins into a single seat, where they stared at Beorn with unmitigated wonder.

Gandalf seemed to be telling Beorn about their journey, although Thorin couldn't pay attention to what he was saying. Food was brought out and he reached for it with tired hands, not even noticing the taste. He noticed when Bell climbed onto his chair, but everything else was a blur. They were at the end of the road at the place Gandalf had promised would be safe, and Thorin could no longer keep himself awake and focused.

He felt the warmth of his wife at his side, but he couldn't even put his arms around her. After a time he was lifted by large hands that made him think of a time when he was as small as Amber and his father made the monsters in his nightmares disappear. He murmured the word "father" and fell farther into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hospitality of Beorn and plans for crossing Mirkwood.

Thorin woke slowly, feeling warm and comfortable despite a ringing headache. As he became more aware, he heard quiet voices over the buzzing in his ears, felt that he was in a bed with warm blankets over him, and smelled the familiar scent of baking bread. For just a moment, he was able to pretend that there had been an accident at the forge and he was home and everything had been a nightmare.

But that couldn't last. He put a hand out and felt it folded between two small ones.

"You're to rest, my heart," Bell said, voice intimately close. "I don't even want you thinking hard for three days."

"Bofur?"

"Rest, I said!"

Thorin smiled, eyes still closed. "You as well, my love. We all need rest."

"Not like you do," Bell replied, tears in her voice.

Thorin cracked his eyes open, then quickly shut them against the brightness of the sunlight. His wife's hands released his and soon he felt a damp cloth cover his eyes. "I will rest," he promised. "But you must as well. We must all rest."

He spent much of the following three days flat on his back, but knew enough not to complain. Bofur did - loudly enough for Thorin to hear it - and wasn't even allowed up long enough to join them for meals or relieve himself. Thorin allowed Bell and all of his boys to fuss over him.

Fíli and Kíli helped him up when he needed it and told him all about their host, the giant Beorn, and his animal servants. Gandalf said Beorn could turn into a bear, but they hadn't seen it and Beorn had been missing since they first arrived. The youths weren't sure how animals cooked and cleaned, but their speculations and pantomimes made Thorin laugh and seemed to please them.

Frerin and Bungo curled into his sides as he rested, and he told them stories. He talked of Durin and the Seven Fathers. Of Khazad-dûm and Erebor. Of gems and mithril and gold. Of dragons and Orcs and battles. Of the reasons Elves and Dwarves hated one another. In return, they told him the stories the Hobbits of Bree had told them. They spoke about sowing and reaping. Of how there was a season for everything. Of family and food. Of the simples joys of a warm hearth and a warm bed.

Thorin listened quietly and told them their stories far surpassed his.

At the end of three days, they started planning the next part of their journey. Thorin continued to go slowly and keep care of himself, but he was finally allowed to think deeply if he wanted to. The pronouncement from Bell made him laugh and kiss her.

Beorn returned, pleased to have discovered their story to be truth. He checked on Thorin and Bofur personally, pleased that the hospitality of his home was helping them recover. Thorin bowed to him, giving heartfelt thanks for the aid, and the man gave a booming laugh in return.

Maps were produced, and they pored over them as a group. Gandalf pointed out where they were, and Thorin and Dwalin mapped out the quickest way to go. Beorn shook his head and pointed out another route while listing off the dangers of what had come to be called Mirkwood.

Thorin's lips compressed into a tighter and tighter line as he listened. There was silence at the end of the Man's words.

"Have you a way to get a message to the Elves of the wood?" Thorin asked, looking down at the map.

"I do," Beorn said.

"I would like to send a request for aid."

"Is this wise?" the wizard asked.

Thorin blinked at him in surprise. After the way he had all but insisted they tell Elrond everything, he would have thought this an idea the wizard should have come up with on his own. "Darkness, vicious beasts, giant spiders, fell rivers. If we cannot even trust the water, trusting to ourselves would be foolishness. I do not like the Elves of this wood, but they have always conveyed travelers safely between their borders."

Dwalin folded his arms, looking steadily at Gandalf. Whatever he thought of the idea, in front of the others he would only show support, and Thorin thanked the stones of the deep that he had the loyalty of Dwalin.

"They have changed since you were last here," the wizard said, trying to push for his own plans.

"As have we," Thorin answered flatly. Most of his best loved people surrounded him, and he would not needlessly endanger them. He held out a hand and Ori put paper and inked pen into it. Thorin began to write, gritting his teeth as he always had when he needed to humble himself against one who should have been his equal. 

However, humble himself he did. The missive was written and handed off to one of the animal servants with words of thanks. As he had learned long years past, when one was a homeless wanderer, it paid to show respect and gratitude to everyone.

"I mislike this," Gandalf said darkly, but there was nothing he could do short of stealing the letter, and that he would not do.

Thorin bowed his head in acknowledgement and turned to the next task. The wizard might have been the instigator for the quest, but Thorin would carry it out in his own manner.

They used the time waiting for a reply to go through all of their things. Dori and Bell mended tears in clothes and packs, Fíli and Dwalin tended to weapons. Nori and Bifur checked their supplies and restocked food and other things needed. The twins ran around doing a bit of everything, and at times could be seen rolling on the floor with the animals' young ones.

Bofur and Thorin were told in no uncertain terms that they were allowed to do none of this work and had to rest. They did so with the best grace they could, singing and telling stories to lighten the burden of work on the others. Some of the animals were drawn to the unfamiliar songs, and Thorin always welcomed them and asked for their own songs in return.

It was almost two weeks since they had arrived when the courier returned with a reply. Thranduil granted them permission to cross his lands and had sent a guide who would meet them. They would be brought to his palace to tell of their adventures and he would advise them on how they should continue.

Thorin gritted his teeth and crumpled the reply in his hand. The condescending--! He forced himself to breathe. Elves were always condescending. Everyone was condescending to penniless wanderers.

(Bree had never been. He wanted to go home.)

It took them little more than an hour to get ready and give their thanks to Beorn. Gandalf had vanished again, but the Man promised he would send the wizard on when he returned. Dwalin sneered a whisper in Thorin's ear.

"He's the one most interested in this quest - and who knows but he's gone gold mad himself - and he keeps vanishing when we could use a wizard most."

"Peace," Thorin answered, smiling apreciation of the insult. "We have the hospitality of the Wood Elves to look forward to. I wouldn't want to see you waste all your wit on the wizard. You have such a limited supply."

Dwalin chuckled and pushed him lightly, a sign of friendship and a show that he wasn't offended.

The road to the forest was wide open, sunlit, and pleasant. It was hard to think that anything they would come to on this road would be dark, but they all knew that evil could have a fair face.

They kept the boys close despite a general lifting of spirits. It was late July and they still had three months to cross the forest and travel up the River Running to the mountain. With luck and the assistance of the Wood Elves, they would reach the ruins of Dale with plenty of time to find the doorstep and plan.

They were two days on the road before Mirkwood came into view, and it was another day before they reached it. A day in which their hopes plummeted. The forest looked haunted, and the idea of traveling through it drew the twins close to their parents, and Thorin close by Bell's side.

As they reached the forest's edge - a place where the sun's light abruptly fell to shadow - Thorin saw that Dori was close by Dwalin's side. His nephews had put Ori protectively between them. Bifur's knuckles were white around his boar spear.  
"Courage," he said, giving Bell's hand a squeeze and walking ahead of them into the forest.

There were two Elves to meet them, both young if he judged them correctly. One was female and had reddish hair that was similar in color to Nori's. The other was blond, and Thorin remembered enough of Thranduil to recognize that this had to be his son. He bowed a greeting, and their trail through Mirkwood started.


	10. Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They travel through Mirkwood and reach the palace of the Wood Elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I've been missing in action. But now I have a job! A job I love! (A job that keeps me very busy, so there's less time for writing.)
> 
> But I have not abandoned this, so fear not!

It took part of a day for the Elf guides to notice the twins. It was the one who looked like Thranduil who finally saw them hiding behind Dwalin and their mother's skirts. His face lit up and he stopped and dropped to his knees, gesturing them out as though they were easily spooked animals. And like those animals, the boys were wary as they responded, each leaving a hand back on their protectors.

"Come, little ones," the Elf crooned. "It's safe. You're protected here in the Greenwood."

Frerin scowled at the condescension and clung tight to Dwalin, but Bungo made his way bravely forward while everyone watched the encounter with varying levels of amusement.

"I'm Bungo Baggins," the boy said, stopping just beyond arm's reach. "Son of Thorin and Belladonna. Who are you?"

It was said with such firm command that the Elf was momentarily stunned silent. Thorin saw the quick glance at the rest of the party and knew that the twins' age had been far underestimated and was now being more correctly calculated.

"I am Legolas, the youngest prince of the wood," he was told. "And this is Tauriel, my...." He looked up at the woman. "Guard?"

She snorted. "Bride, if your parents have their way. But that's not here nor there." She dropped to one knee. "Well met, young Dwarf."

"Dwobbit," Frerin corrected fiercely, leaving Dwalin's side to stand next to his brother.

The Elves blinked at each other but didn't pursue it. "Well met, I say again," Tauriel said. "Young Bungo Baggins and...?" She looked pointedly at the other boy.

"Frerin," he said sullenly, slinking back to hide next to Thorin.

Thorin rested a concerned hand on Frerin's shoulder, knowing that neither of his boys were shy around strangers. And growing up in Bree, they were used to Tall People and wouldn't be put off by that.

"The forest is too dark," the boy said, answering the unspoken question. "How long will we be here?"

Thorin darted a glance to Legolas, who rose to answer. "Two weeks to the palace. We have to stick to safe paths, and the most direct ones can't be shared with outsiders. But don't worry, young one. We will lead you safely. You won't get lost or be taken by wild beasts."

He sounded honestly concerned, and Thorin handed one of his knives to Frerin to demonstrate marksmanship. The boy understood and the knife whistled into a tree distantly in front of them. Both Elves were dutifully impressed, and Tauriel gave him a smile and said "perhaps we'll have you protect us instead of the other way around."

That seemed to warm the boy up to them, and before the end of the day the twins were both riding on Elf shoulders, high above where their mother felt safe having them. Thorin soothed her, but she spent most of the afternoon and evening fretting after them quietly.

They are sparingly that night. While there was some food to be had in the forest, especially to the familiar eyes of the Elves, it would be in small amounts that could be used to supplement their rations but not replace them. What they had brought would have to last the full two weeks.

Thorin insisted that they set watch at night, despite the assurance of the Elves that it wasn't needed. Thorin's life had been many things, but safe had never been one of them. He set his people on a rotating schedule to make sure they all got sleep, and if any of them believed Legolas and thought him paranoid, none of them said it.

At least they were easy nights on this road. They settled among the trees, eating their dinner and talking late into the evening, curling up to sleep when it got too dark. They only had the smallest of cook fires, the beasts of the forest too attracted to light to make it safe to have more.

But they made do with what they had. They told stories of ghosts and hunts and spirits, the Elves fascinating the younger members of the company with unfamiliar tales, and fascinated in turn by what they learned of Dwarves and Hobbits.

They were more than halfway to their destination when Thorin's caution was vindicated. He was on watch himself when the spiders descended from the trees so silently that it wasn't until he felt the silk wrapping around his legs that he even noticed them. He bellowed his defiance, waking the rest of the group to their danger.

The spiders were larger than any of the Dwarves and nearly as big as Tauriel. After everything they had already been through, the twins quailed before them. Bell, arm shaking and hair missed with sleep, stood in front of her boys. Thorin wanted to go to them, but there were many spiders and they all had to be slain for the group to be safe. But still, his eyes cut over to them often as he hacked legs from bodies, split heads, and stabbed through multifaceted eyes.

The others were making their way to his family, Elf as well as Dwarf. He knew they would all protect his wife and sons with their lives, and turned to the task of ensuring that they were all safe by killing the spiders.

He was exhausted by the end. There had been many of them, and they had longer reach than he did, even with Orcrist. He was covered in spider silk and gore, and could feel the sting of venom in the wounds he'd gotten. He turned to the rest of them, out of breath but triumphant, and felt like he'd been hit in the stomach when he saw Dori holding the too still form of his baby brother.

Dori was silent in his grief, arms trembling and tears dripping down his cheeks. Dwalin hovered anxiously, unsure. Nori was a coiled spring of tension as he bent down to listen for breath or heartbeat.

Thorin stumbled to them and wrapped Bell in his arms, pulling his nephews and sons close as well. None of them minded how dirty he was, all clinging to him and desperate over Ori. Thorin felt bruises being pressed into his arms as they waited, all holding their breaths.

Finally, Nori sagged with relief. "He breathes," he said, voice ragged. "His heart beats."

"But for how long?" Dori demanded in a voice that would have been a wail if it were not ruthlessly controlled. Dwalin wrapped strong arms around him and held him tightly, and Dori turned into the touch with a single sob as if he believed that Dwalin could fix it somehow.

Thorin could feel the same hope in the small fingers wrapped tightly in his tunic and the tear filled eyes of his nephews, and he shut is eyes against it, because there was nothing he could do.

"Can you trust me, Master Dwarf?"

They all looked up to see Tauriel kneeling solemnly in front of Dori and only then remembered the Elves who had fought by their side.

"We all need a healer after this," Legolas said, stepping in behind her. "I will take you on paths you shouldn't be on, and we'll get home in a bit more than a day. Sooner, if we can push on with little rest."

Tauriel nodded agreement. "But the young one can't walk on his own, and it will take longer if you have to carry him." Dori snarled at the suggestion that they leave his brother behind, but Tauriel raised a hand. "I run quickly. I can get there with him in a matter of hours." She held her hands out. "A delay now might mean his life."

Dori's grip tightened as if he wouldn't let go, but he glanced over at his brother and Nori gave a small nod. He relaxed. "I would be in your debt," he said, voice trembling. And when Tauriel leapt away with Ori bound to her back, Dori turned fully into Dwalin and wept.

"He was protecting me while I shot," Kíli whispered, burying his face in Thorin's shoulder.

Thorin wound his fingers into his nephew's dark hair, pressing him close in comfort. "We'll see him in not much more than a day," he promised, voice a low rumble. He turned to Legolas. "We are in your care."

They walked as quickly as they could given how clustered they were. Frerin sat in Thorin's arms and Bungo traveled between Bell and his cousins. Fíli and Kíli walked pressed to Thorin and Bell's sides, and the married pair had their hands entwined as much as they could. Dori stayed firmly between Dwalin and Nori, although it looked like he wanted to run on ahead. Bifur and Bofur were so close their shoulders rubbed, and neither complained about it.

It was nearing midnight when they stopped to rest. They boys were asleep already, and the rest of them were falling over from exhaustion, the adrenaline of the battle long since gone. Dori remained awake to watch, too worried to sleep. He said he didn't want to dream, and Thorin knew what dreams he was anticipating. Dwalin dropped to the ground next to him, head resting in his lover's lap as he slept.

They rose long before dawn made its way through the thick canopy of the forest and began their weary march. It seemed to Thorin that they had spent half of the journey injured and on their way to aid. He held his boys close and pushed forward.

They reached the caverns of the Wood Elves in midmorning. A guard showed them to the throne room and Thranduil, but wouldn't answer any questions about Ori, even to tell them if he lived.

"Welcome, Prince Thorin," the Elven king said from his throne. "I haven't seen you since the coming of Smaug. Although, should I use that title now? What are you without your mountain and your Arkenstone, after all?"

The question was pointed and said with the ghost of a smile and it would have rankled even if it didn't so closely mirror the jibes from the Goblins. Thorin pulled himself up straight and looked back at Thranduil with a scowl. "I am Thorin," he said, voice ringing and deliberate. "Son of Thráin son of Thrór. I am a husband and father, a brother and uncle. I am a smith by trade. I am leader and protector of all the people of Erebor who chose to settle by my side. _I have done more for my people in the last hundred years than you have done for yours in the last thousand_."

Thranduil's face twisted in anger and he gripped the arms of his throne tightly. But then he made himself relax, although he continued looking at Thorin in distaste. "You have had a long journey. Morgu! Bring the Dwarves to the guest quarters so they can clean themselves and sleep."

Thorin bowed stiffly and followed the dark haired Elf, the one who most favored his mother of Thranduil's children. Legolas fell in with them. "Tauriel came ahead of us," he said, concerned for his friend. "With a Dwarf who was injured. Did they make it safely?"

Morgu glanced over the group and took pity on them. "He has not regained consciousness, but his breathing is strong."

Dori sank back, almost fainting with relief, and Dwalin half carried him the rest of the way.

They were left alone when they reached the guest wing, but seeing guards at the door let them know that they were not free to wander. The youngest of them stared at the rooms in wonder. Dwarves and Hobbits were not used to the opulence of the Elven halls. Grand, carven halls sprang into Thorin's memory, and he felt that Erebor was more than a match for what they were seeing. Homes carved into the living heart of a mountain, dug out and adorned with the loving hands of ones who knew the rock as kin - there was no compare, but also no way to explain. He looked for the words while they washed and changed, but they didn't exist.

And then there was nothing to do but wait. Wait until Thranduil deigned to see him again. Wait until there was proper news about Ori. Wait until Ori was well so they could proceed. He hated waiting, but he resolved himself to it, as there was no other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in this story I have given Thranduil 4 children (don't ask why - I only vaguely have a reason). He and his wife gave each of them, when they were quite young, a "protector" for them to grow up with. The reason was twofold - they would have a friend, and hopefully they would grow to love each other and marry. It hasn't worked as well as they hoped. The oldest fights constantly with his protector, although if there's any danger they would die to protect one another. Morgu flatly refused to have one in the first place. The third (the only girl) is their big success story - she's recently made them grandparents. And then there's Legolas, who's just not interested. One out of four's not bad, right? And Legolas and Tauriel still have time. They're young.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is spent in Mirkwood.

The chairs were half again too tall and Thorin hadn't felt small like this since he'd started living in Bree. Despite the presence of Men, the population of Hobbits and the interaction between the groups had led to a far more equitable relationship. The Dwarves of Erebor had found a good home there, and Thorin's mind wandered to Dwalin's words. Would it be better to give up and just go home?

But no. After everything they had been through, now was not the time to retreat. Having come so far, how could he settle for anything less than freeing the Lonely Mountain from the dragon?

And yet they still had travel and they certainly weren't treated as the welcome guests they had been in Rivendell. The presence of guards at their door would have said as much even if they hadn't had weapons.

He drew the twins aside not long after they settled in and whispered to them to avoid notice from the Elves.

"Elves are Big People," he said, and they nodded agreement. "They will likely think you younger than you are, like Legolas and Tauriel did when you first met. Do not correct them."

They cocked their heads, and were it not for the purple cloth knotted at Frerin's throat even Thorin would not have been able to tell them apart. While he watched, Bungo's eyes slowly cleared with understanding. He turned and whispered to Frerin so softly Thorin couldn't hear a sound. The other boy's eyes popped open and he looked at his father with wonder.

The pair linked hands and moved away, heads stilled bowed together as they spoke softly. When Thorin rejoined the rest of the group, he found a purple cloth tied into a series of luck knots laid carefully on the top of his bag. He looked up to see that his identical sons were now indistinguishable, and smiled.

It was three days before Ori gained consciousness. Only one was allowed to be with him, and Nori always ceded that right to Dori. The oldest brother spent all his time there, one hand wrapped around Ori's. From the things they heard, he was hardly sleeping. Thorin could imagine how he felt, the fear that Ori would slip away when he was asleep, the need to be awake when he finally woke.

The rest of them needed to work through their own worry. Nori was still a brother, Dwalin almost so, Fíli and Kíli good friends. Thorin asked Morgu and Legolas for the use of a training field and was granted one. The guards went with them when they used it, but the half-courtesy they were being shown made Thorin want to show off their abilities. If Thranduil thought to hold them again tht ear will he would have a hard time doing so.

Legolas and Tauriel joined them when they trained. They wanted to shoot against Kíli and test Fíli's mettle. As well as Thorin could judge, the two were young for Elves - near in comparison to his nephews, who were only newly adults. He needed to do nothing to encourage the relationship, and the two were able to bring much information in the evenings after sparring with the two Elves.

Harder to crack was Morgu. The darkest of Thranduil's children was more self contained than his younger brother. From what they could overhear, Morgu kept his own council about everything. But when he wanted to cross blades with Nori, Thorin encouraged it. Nori also kept his own council, but he gave a quick nod when asked if the Elf was someone they could trust. Knowing what it took to get Nori's trust, Thorin let himself believe.

Elugelon was the eldest Elf prince. He was a capable warrior and a capable diplomat as well. Thorin took it upon himself to cultivate his friendship. There was no way he could hope to match the skill Elugelon had with a sword. He had less than two hundred years' experience to compare with the Elf's more than a thousand. On the other hand, Elugelon had never had to fight for his life and stuck too strictly to forms.

Eregeth was Elugelon's friend and bodyguard. From information gleaned, there was no sign of the hoped for romance between the pair, but they were inseparable nonetheless. She was gleeful when clashing with Dwalin, the pair grinning fiercely at one another, teeth gleaming ferally.

The final child of Thranduil joined them the third day. Carameril was the only girl, and recently a mother. Bell sat with her at the side of the field and discussed babies and clothes and other womanly things while they smiled at the strength and prowess of their husbands.

The husband seemed to enjoy having both Bifur and Bofur crashing after him. There was laughter from their side of the field, and Thorin was satisfied that they were making allies of all the royal family but the parents.

A runner came to them as soon as Ori woke. But they still weren't allowed to go to him, so it was almost not a kindness. Nori sank down in relief for a moment, then attacked Morgu with twice the ferocity. The rest of them stopped and watched him with sympathy.

It was two more long days before Ori was brought to the guest rooms. He was weak and pale and they all doted on him. Thorin thought of his own brother when he started to think that both Dori and Nori were excessive, and what he would have done in their place silenced him.

He knew it would take time before Ori was ready to go, but he still started to chafe at their stay. And Thranduil still hadn't seen him, which normally wouldn't worry him but with everything else just set him further on edge.

Not that things were much better when Thranduil finally deigned to see him. He was openly disdainful of the story that was told, raising a disbelieving brow at the story of the Trolls and the creature under Misty Mountains.

"And the reason for such a hard journey?" he asked at the end, sitting back bonelessly, eyes cool.

Thorin crossed his arms belligerently. "Even you must recognize the direction we are traveling."

A frown crossed the Elf's face. "And wake a dragon to destroy my kingdom?"

Thorin ground his teeth. Because his kingdom was already destroyed and he couldn't find it in him to worry about the Greenwood. "We don't know that the dragon is even still alive. And if he is, we have plans."

"What plans?" Thranduil asked, leaning forward.

"You expect me to tell you that?" Thorin snorted. "After everything?"

"And yet you begged my aid already once," Thranduil answered, lips twisted into a sneer. "But since you ask so humbly, I will send Legolas to see what he can see from outside the mountain."

It was more than Thorin expected, really, but he couldn't let the Elf king know that. "Fíli and Kíli will go as well," he said flatly. "To make sure the information brought back is accurate and true."

"They will go to quickly for ponies," Thranduil mocked.

Thorin was still standing in front of the Elf as a supplicant and he was growing angry at the position. "Kíli is better with horses than any I know. Perhaps it will be your son struggling to keep up."

In the end, the four who went decided that two horses would be enough, and they left the next morning with a Dwarf riding behind each Elf. Thorin watched after them until they couldn't be seen. They were away from where he could protect them, and he wasn't sure what he would tell his sister if anything happened to them.

The days fell into routine. In the morning the Dwarves sparred and trained with the royal children and some of the guards. Then they spent the afternoon with Ori, telling stories and helping him recover his strength. Thorin and Bell were often invited to dinner with Thranduil and his wife, and there was no way they could refuse in their situation. Bell made polite conversation, which allowed Thorin to silently glower at his host.

It was easy to lose track of time under the circumstances, and Thorin tried hard not to. He kept track of the days to know how long they had left. Days went by and he kept a watch out for his nephews, dreading the news they would likely bring. Dragons didn't die of old age, and there was no reason to believe Smaug was dead. And once it was known for certain what waited at the end of their journey, their freedom within the forest would be curtailed.

But still he watched. The boys hadn't been so far from him since they had moved to Bree. He hadn't sent others to do work for him in years. The one going to the mountain and danger should have been him, and he couldn't set that aside. He couldn't leave them behind, but he didn't have to send them ahead of him.

August was nearing its end by the time a pair of horses came galloping back into the forest palace.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They receive word about the state of the Mountain and then have to escape from Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I thought this would be up at least a week ago. I have no excuses. (Actually I do. Work was crazy last week. But that's not the point. I don't think.)

The four young people bowed to the Elf king on his throne and to the Dwarf king standing to the side of the room. They stood straight and proud, ignoring the rustle of murmurs that came after the double obeisance.

"The dragon Smaug is alive in the mountain," Legolas said, speaking first and summarizing their findings.

"How certain are you?" Thranduil asked.

"Completely," Fíli answered, speaking as proof that they were united in their interpretation. "Smoke comes out of the Southern Gate and we heard him as we drew closer."

"How close did you get?" Thorin asked, aghast. He knew his nephews were foolhardy enough to try the mountain, but he had thought the Elves would rein them in.

"Close enough to know you won't be able to enter through the Southern Gate," Tauriel answered, turning to bow respectfully.  
Thranduil let out a breath and leaned back on his throne. "There," he said, waving a hand. "You have heard their report. You have no chance, so now you will return where you came from."

"We never planned to use the Southern Gate," Thorin said, head held high. "We will continue."

Thranduil's eyes hardened. "Then what did you plan?"

"That is no concern of yours."

"When you mean to confront a dragon, it becomes the concern of the whole countryside. You will tell me your plan."

Thorin ground his teeth, but Bell put a hand on his arm before he could say something regretable.

"Great Thranduil, there are paths within this forest that only your own may use. Does it surprise you that Dwarves have similar secrets?"

The expressions around the room said that the Elves were indeed surprised, but Bell continued mildly. "A living dragon may come at any time. We will do our best to kill him within Erebor, but if that is impossible you at least have warning. You will be prepared as you would not be if we left him unhindered."

Thorin nodded silent agreement with his wife's wise words and waited for what he was sure would be a negative response.  
He wasn't disappointed. "We will speak of this no more," Thranduil said, frowning. "You will not move forward and risk waking the dragon."

Thorin recognized a dismissal when he heard one. Giving the Elf king a hard glare, he gestured his nephews to his side and left the room. They were silent until they reached the Dwarf chambers where the others welcomed them back.

The twins leapt on their cousins, who laughed and held them upside down until they cried for mercy. Then, with the boys on their shoulders, Fíli and Kíli hugged Ori between them. Thorin let them be and moved aside to talk quietly with the others, making plans for the journey ahead.

When the guards told them they weren't allowed to leave, he needed Dori and Dwalin both to hold him back from storming Thranduil's private chambers and gutting him. Instead he just stormed to Thranduil's private chambers and got into a shouting match - that was almost over as soon as it started when the Elf shouted back at him.

On the way back to his own room, escorted by guards who had their weapons prominently shown, Thorin caught sight of his younger nephew. Kíli was in a nook in the wall, back bent like a bow. His hands lingered at the waist of Tauriel and hers were helping hold him upright as they kissed. Both looked at peace, as if being together made them whole.

Thorin frowned, not liking any Elf at that moment, but he swept by them with the guards. Interrupting would have been the height of rudeness and he didn't want to embarrass them. When Kíli returned, nearly an hour later, flushed and grinning, he said nothing. They had more to think about than his nephew having a fling with an Elf.

For more than a week, Thorin met with Thranduil for at least an hour a day. He tried talking reasonably. He tried shouting. He tried being silent and letting Bell do the talking. But Thranduil wouldn't budge, and Thorin ended every meeting wanting to clip his pointy ears off and feed them to a goat.

He spent hours afterward in the training rooms, and he knew the guards were complaining about how many training dummies he had destroyed. But there was nothing else to do to calm himself. They were being held against their wills and nothing he could say would get them free. He was sure that even if he said they had given up and were going home to Bree - even if he had said it and meant it with every fiber of his being, which was more and more true with each passing day - Thranduil would think it was a ploy and continue to hold them.

The others took the captivity with more equanimity. They were free to roam within the citadel and their weapons hadn't been taken, which was at least one good thing. Mornings were still spent sparring with the young royals, and the friendships there hadn't been marred by the problems. Fíli and Kíli had, as they often did, dragged Ori into their games and the young Dwarf was regaining his strength admirably.

One evening, Thorin saw Kíli out after dinner. He glanced around the room as he did, so it was obvious he was attempting to be sneaky. Thorin frowned thoughtfully and followed at a distance. Kíli had always been lightfooted and quick and following him proved difficult, but Thorin managed. He realized at some point that the boy was probably going to a trust with the Elf maiden, but he continued his pursuit.

Kíli, when he finally came upon him, was kneeling on a table with blond hair held in hands that were white knuckled. Thorin winced and pitied the Elf prince the headache he would have later. For it was Legolas and not Tauriel who had arms around Kíli, large hands resting just far enough over to be on the youth's bottom and not his hip. They were kissing fiercely, and as Thorin watched Kíli leaned back and pulled Legolas down with him.

Thorin was quickly back in the Dwarf rooms, pulling his older nephew aside and demanding "what is going on here?"

Fíli winced but looked his uncle in the eye. "It's for him to say," he answered, staying firm in the face of Thorin's anger. "I will not explain it."

"Fíli--"

"No, uncle."

It was several hours before Kíli returned and Thorin was the only one still awake. The youth closed the door carefully behind him before turning and jumping nearly a foot at the sight of his uncle.

"What do you think you're doing?" Thorin demanded.

"I don't know what you mean, uncle," Kíli answered, fidgeting.

"One Elf is bad enough, but you're dallying with two of them, and one is a prince. What are you thinking?"

"I'm seducing them into helping us escape," Kíli said desperately, but it hadn't even been well practiced. And Thorin knew his younger nephew well enough to know that there were no strings to his sport. Thorin didn't have to say anything before he dropped his head. "It's complicated," he whispered.

"I am willing to listen."

Kíli came and sat trustingly close, voice low as he confided in his uncle as he always had. He thought they were both pretty. And with a focus on archery and a love of animals, there was so much that they all shared. His voice was steady but pleading as he talked about how they had become friends during the time in the palace, and he dropped his head and voice when he explained how they had become more on the journey to the mountain.

"I don't know what's going to happen," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But I like them both, uncle." He leaned into Thorin's side, and one of Thorin's arms was draped around him.

Thorin sighed, mussing Kíli's hair. "You don't make your life easy, lad."

"I'm sorry, uncle," Kíli whispered, hanging his head in shame.

Thorin hugged him close. "The heart's ways are not to be understood by mortals," he said. "I would keep you from being hurt if I could, but you're no longer a child. You must find your own way."

"I do think they'll help us," Kíli said softly, clinging close like the child he wasn't. "We spent the ride back trying to think of alternatives and ways to fight the dragon. I know they think it's unfair that we're being held here."

Thorin hummed in thought and then smiled.

Three days later, Morgu opened the rear gates and spoke with the guards there. "The little one is having a relapse and Thúlamdir says he needs a mortal physician. Legolas and Tauriel are bringing the Dwarves to Laketown."

The guards saluted the princes, stepping aside without a question.

Ori lay across the lead horse's neck, moaning softly, sweat dripping down his face. Until they were well away and he sat up with a grin.

"Told you I could do it," he said as they spurred ahead on the next stage of their journey.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach Laketown and meet the Man who should be lord of Dale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not updated in a while. Blame the holiday season, I suppose.
> 
> Having seen DoS (and wishing for the first time that I had a blog so I could properly rant about it), expect that a few bits will be woven in here.
> 
> Happy New Year!

They would be on the road two nights, even moving quickly for fear of chase. They were in high spirits, though, to be back on the road. The twins rode with their cousins and peppered them with questions about what lay ahead. They all listened intently to the answers that were given, those who had been there before comparing the descriptions to what they remembered.

It was hard to hear about barren land and sere waste as far as the eye could see. To Thorin, who remembered Dale at its height - busy, beautiful, and bounteous - hearing a description of blackened ruins made his heart hurt. The statues who had guarded the Southern Gate for centuries were crumbled and gone. He could only imagine the destruction inside the mountain, and just imagining made him want to turn and run.

Bell's chin was on his shoulder and he knew she'd noticed. Her arms slipped more firmly around his waist and she leaned up to kiss his ear. He smiled slightly and leaned into her while they continued to listen to the rest of the group talking and joking around them.

When evening came, they stopped to make camp. Thorin easily took charge, setting the guard rounds and making the decisions on where bedding should go and where they would start the fire. He was talking to Dwalin when there was a yelp that caused him to turn, Orcrist already half out of its scabbard.

Kíli had been pulled down into Tauriel's lap, the Elf's arms around his chest and waist and holding him tightly. "You're going to bed down here with us, right?" she asked, nuzzling at one red ear.

He nodded, still and uncomfortable but leaning into the touch.

Thorin directed Dwalin's attention away. It was a shock to the group, since only he and Fíli knew about Kíli's relationships, but they followed his lead and turned to their evening tasks. When they finally lay down to sleep, Kíli was caught in between the pair of Elves, two sets of arms around him and his hands holding each of them close.

Thorin lay down with Bell in his arms and softly filled her in. She hummed understanding and spent much of the night watching the trio from across the fire.

"He looks so small," she said after a while and Thorin had to agree. Bracketed by Elves, he looked the same as the small boy who would crawl into his uncle's bed when he'd had a nightmare. Despite knowing that Kíli was now taller than his brother, Thorin always thought of him as that young child.

But he couldn't say that because he knew he had to let his nephew grow up in his mind. "So do you," he said instead, kissing Bell's neck. She smiled and reached a hand back to card through his braids and they slipped together into sleep.

It took time in the morning for Kíli to get over the embarrassment of everyone finding out, but by the time they reached the edge of the forest at midday he was smiling and laughing like usual. It made Thorin glad that his nephew could still smile that way, and any time he saw someone looking in his direction he glared until they stopped.

The view from the edge of the forest was inspiring and distressing in equal measure. They could see the mountain and the bright ribbon of the river. They could also see how blasted it was, how empty and desolate. Thorin's hands shook on the reins and he had a moment to wish he had never let Tharkûn goad him into the journey. Then he started forward toward it, because they had come too far to stop now.

They spent another night on the road. No one stared when Kíli set his bedding next to the two Elves again although Thorin heard muttered conversation in Khuzdul between Dwalin and Dori over it. Still, they kept their comments to themselves, and Thorin didn't have to step in to his nephew's defense.

He pretended, in the morning, that he couldn't understand Legolas and Tauriel's Sindarin.

_"We should go with them,"_ Tauriel said as she shook out her blankets.

_"It isn't our fight."_

She looked over at him. _"Isn't any fight against darkness ours?"_

He looked up from his bag. _"We'll be in enough trouble when we return."_

Her brows climbed and she nodded slowly. _"Because your father is more to be feared than the dragon that one who you care for is going to face."_

Legolas only sighed and Thorin walked over to them. They both looked up guiltily and bowed to him.

"You will leave us before we enter Laketown," he said. "Return the horses - I will not have your father calling me a thief. If we've need, I shall send Kíli to you."

His nephew's head whipped around. He understood that it was a ploy to get him away from danger and he frowned but kept his tongue.

It was just past noon when they bid farewell to Legolas and Tauriel. Thorin led the group to the single bridge that led to the town on the lake as Kíli kissed them both. He slunk to his brother's side when he joined them and Fíli threw an arm across his shoulders when he saw the pout on Kíli's face.

They went to an inn near the edge of town and asked after rooms. It was expensive, as things usually were for Dwarves, but before Thorin could nod resignedly Bell blew up.

"What?" she demanded loudly so the whole room could hear. "With the meat in the pot half rotten and your beer stale, you charge that much? And when is the last time you bathed? You live on a lake! You would think cleaning would be simple! But no, you're much to busy bilking your customers." She sniffed contemptuously and turned. "We'll take our custom somewhere else."

With that, she sailed out of the building, one last dirty look passing from her to the innkeeper. The Dwarves followed in wonder, although Thorin kept a hand to his sword. The innkeeper couldn't like what she had said. Neither had his customers, though, as the lunch crowd had stopped eating and was slowly reaching for knives.

They found an inn to Bell's satisfaction half the town away. The cost wasn't much different, but the quality of the place was worlds away. They got three rooms that came with dinner and crammed themselves into one of them to plan. They were at the most dangerous part, with little idea of how to proceed beyond finding the hidden door.

"Dwalin, I want you to go scouting by the mountain. You and I are the only ones who'll remember anything from before. Take Nori and make a thorough survey of what we're up against."

"I'll go too," Ori chimed.

Thorin turned to him, intending to deny, but Nori was already nodding. "Balin trained him to observe things the rest of us wouldn't think to notice, and if we give him paper and charcoal we'll have maps of the mountain more accurate than any we'd get here."

It was a valid point and though Thorin wanted to ignore it he reluctantly agreed to let the scribe go along. They had a month and he needed as much information as could be gathered. They kept to themselves that evening, the trio to leave in the morning very much coddled among the group.

In the morning, they shouldered their packs and left. The ones remaining watched them go and then turned to the town to distract themselves from the loss. It was a month to Durin's Day and they didn't know how long they would be staying in Laketown. They needed to restock themselves, and they would need money for that and for the stay at the inn.

Fíli and Kíli set out to find young people of the town to befriend. Bifur, Bofur, and Dori worked their way through the markets, talking to venders quietly to find out how difficult it would be to set up for short term. Bell took Thorin and the twins a different way through the market, gossiping with venders selling vegetables and fish.

"Papa!" The twins came dancing back before Thorin and Bell even noticed they were gone. "This is Tilda, papa!"

The girl between them was probably ten but taller than the twins. She had a basket over one arm and her coat had obviously belonged to someone else before the arms had been shortened to fit her. She gave a curtsy.

"Frerin, I'm sure her mother will be fretting for her," Bell snapped.

The girl shook her head. "I don't have a mama anymore, Miss Dwarf. Papa is out on his boat and Bain and Sigrid are at home."

"And what are they doing while you are out here shopping?" Thorin asked.

"Sigrid is doing the laundry," Tilda answered. "I can do the shopping fine on my own."

Bell shared a look with Thorin. "Let us help you finish," she said, taking the girl's hand. Even Thorin smiled to see how close in height they were. He let Bell do the shopping part, and he slipped money to the venders before Tilda could notice.

They escorted her home when they were done with the shopping. And there was Sigrid - perhaps a year or two older than Calce - doing far more than one family's worth of laundry. She brushed her hair tiredly out of her face with the back of her hand. "Tilda, now is not the time to bring your friends--" That was when she noticed Thorin and his beard and stopped abruptly, rising to her feet.

"They're Dwarves, Sigrid," the younger girl said. "See? They really are small like us!"

"Your sister and our sons have become friends," Thorin said soothingly, wanting to stop the panic that was seeping into the older girl's eyes. "You can understand we wanted to meet her family?"

"Let me help you with that laundry while the children play," Bell said, pushing her sleeves up and moving to Sigrid's side. "Many hands make for light work."

The girl seemed overwhelmed still, but sank back to her knees to continue scrubbing. Thorin jollied the twins and Tilda to the other side of the room where the hearth was and started them chopping and mixing for dinner. The children chattered merrily and he could see Bell and Sigrid talking softly where they were. The family obviously needed help and he was glad they could provide it.

The father came home as the sun was setting, a youth at his side who was probably the same age as the twins but more than a foot taller. The laundry had been long finished and returned for payment, which had been squirreled away with the rest of the family's savings.

"What is a Dwarf doing in Laketown?" the Man asked, arms tight around his daughters.

"I think you can guess that we're heading toward the mountain," Thorin said calmly.

The Man shook his head slowly. "You will not bring a dragon down on my children," he said, eyes dark.

"Not if I have any choice in the matter," Thorin agreed. "But you know that dragons don't sleep forever. If I do not go now, there is no telling when Smaug would wake and come here."

The Man turned and spat out the door at the name of the dragon. "There are not many ways to kill dragons, and I cannot see you carrying a black arrow into the mountain. If you could even find one."

Thorin stepped forward. "I would appreciate anything you can tell me about what has happened in this land since the ruin of Dale. I am Thorin son of Thráin son of Thrór, and if any has the right to try and destroy the dragon, it is me."

"Thrór the last king under the mountain?"

Thorin nodded.

The Man stepped closer, going down on one knee to be closer in height. "My grandfather Girion was lord in Dale when the dragon came. He wounded the beast but could not kill it."

Thorin didn't have to look around the meager room to know how hard The lord of Dale had fallen. They were alike in that. He had grown up in luxury, but then came ruin and they had lived in poverty for more than half a century after. Men were shorter lived, and this one couldn't have lived in anything but the poor circumstances they found him in.

And if his story was right, Girion would have been disgraced and his family to seven generations would be the same.

"Lord of Dale," Thorin said, giving the Man the honor he should have had in a better world. "The Darves of Erebor request your aid and will help you rebuild your city."

Dark eyes met blue and Thorin waited for the decision that would help them or kill their mission before they made it to the mountain he had come so far to free.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They proceed from Laketown to the Lonely Mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is abrupt and very fractured. I will have to reread and edit it when my brain isn't swimming with bad things.

Thorin worried after his people every day. He had to keep himself busy - he found a forge and talked his way into getting time on the anvils - but as day followed day and wound into weeks, his eyes moved north more and more often.

Dori was silent about his own distress, but with both brothers and lover gone it would be folly to believe he had none. He was never still, and rarely around the other Dwarves. He picked up any odd job that was available around Laketown, haggled over supplies, interacted with a portion of the population that Thorin would never be able to get near. He met Bard and pulled out all the stops to get needles and wool and make warm things for his children.

Bell also spent a lot of attention on the children of their new ally, the twins with her. She spent most days at Bard's home while he was working. She cooked for them - usually paying for at least part of the food. She helped Sigrid with the washing she did without her father's knowledge. She cleaned and she watched them like a mother would - like the mother they didn't have.

Bifur and Bofur sat in the marketplace with their carving knives. The children discovered them first, passing pennies to Bifur to take home his toys. The parents followed, enchanted when they saw that the vicious looking Dwarf was always gentle with their children and was visibly pleased when they enjoyed his creations. And then Bofur chatted them up as he was so good at, selling them wooden bowls at the same time as he learned about the people and their town.

Thorin did his best to not know what his nephews were up to, but naively seducing half the town seemed not far off the mark. Fíli and Kíli found the young people. They drank, joked, and laughed, and there were few who hadn't fallen in love with them.

It was a week to Durin's Day when the scouts returned. Thorin should have been annoyed that they didn't seek him out first. But when he returned to the inn at the end of the day to find the three crowded around Dori - Dori who was sitting in the circle of Dwalin's arms with his eyes on his brothers and the biggest smile he'd had in the best part of a month on his lips - he didn't have it in him to disapprove.

As the rest of the group returned for the night, the common room of the inn became loud with welcome. They were toasted over and over, and when the group retired to hear the report and plan ahead, most of them were at least partially drunk.

Thorin looked through Ori's drawings. They were far more detailed than he had expected, and showed very close examinations of the mountain. He frowned and turned to listening to them. The land was sere. There was no cover. They would need to move fast and find outcrops of rock to hide in just in case. There was at least one other side door, but Nori couldn't find the lock to pick it and they had no idea where it led so the one they knew about was best.

Thorin stopped them. "You went onto the mountain?"

"Don't worry," Dwalin assured, voice slurring slightly and drunk enough not to mind the audience as he rubbed his nose over Dori's neck. "Didn't hear anything from inside. Don't think the beast noticed us."

Thorin pursed his lips but let it pass. "Ori," he said, turning to where the three young Dwarves were sitting and giggling together. Ori looked over, listing slightly to one side and Thorin cursed internally and hoped he could get a coherent answer. "Tell me what you have learned about dragons."

Ori pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he went into recitation mode. "Dragons are large animals of the reptile family, although they are able to produce their own heat - that is where the fire comes from and indeed, after breathing all of their fire it takes a dragon anywhere from a half hour to a half day to recharge. Thus, dragons are known to save their fire and use other means to do their work. They have teeth sharp and long as sword, curved claws like the blades of the Haradrim and when they still have fire within their bellies they are as hot as it is near as a furnace. Despite this, their preferred nest is piled gold, which softens under them and gets added to their formidable armor."

He looked well pleased with himself and gave what was supposed to be an elaborate bow but what really only was a wobble that ended with him in a heap on the floor. Fíli and Kíli applauded and whistled.

"And killing them?" Thorin asked with a sigh, thanking Balin's training for the fact that they'd gotten sense out of him at all.

Ori blinked owlishly up from the floor as if confused how he got there. "Nine parts luck and one part blind faith."

"Wonderful," Thorin muttered. He sighed again. "Get some sleep, all of you. Tomorrow we must prepare so that we can leave and get tot he mountain in time for Durin's Day."

He watched them go, shaking his head, and spent another hour gazing at the drawings - at things familiar and beloved. Bell sat next to him, and he leaned on her shoulder and pointed out particulars, telling her stories of his childhood that he had nearly forgotten in the daily struggle to exist. She held him close and listened, smoothing her fingers across the parchment and nuzzling into his hair.

The next day was a flurry of packing. They spread through the town to let those they had befriended know what was going on. Thorin went to Bard with his own warning.

"Those from Dale who support us shouldn't be hurt for it," he said to the man. "In less than a week, we will be able to enter the mountain. If we are lucky, we will destroy the beast. If not, we will likely all be dead and it will come here. Send your little ones away to safety, I beg you."

"Send them where?" Bard asked. "If the town isn't safe, there's nowhere to go."

"The Greenwood," Thorin said instantly. "I will send the twins back there myself." He heard them begin to protest and be shushed by their mother as he turned, eyes drawn to his nephews.

Kíli had his eyes closed, looking pained, but before Thorin said anything he stepped forward. "I will bring all women and children we can gather to the safety of the forest. They will let us in, I think, if I ask it."

It was Fíli who looked like he wanted to protest, and that night they were never more than an arm's length from one another. When they left in the morning, Kíli watched after them from the dock. Fíli kept turning long after they were out of sight.

They were three days traveling through the dragon waste. It was good that they had food, because there would have been nothing otherwise. Even Bell couldn't see anything edible. She sat on the horse behind Thorin with her face buried in his furs, and he felt her cry at night for the destruction around them.

Fíli had become inseparable from Ori, although it was an odd choice for a replacement brother - Ori was far more serious than Kíli, and Kíli had never been shy. Still, they shared a horse, and their heads were always bent toward one another, voices too quiet for the rest of them to hear.

The mountain grew slowly closer as they rode, and early on the third day they reached the ruins of Dale. Those of them who remembered the bustle of the city had to look away. For the rest, it was merely a poor ruin, but Thorin remembered some of the people who had lived there. People he would have outlived anyway, but who had been cruelly cut down by the dragon or cast into penniless wandering as he had been. To him, Dale was as his own home.

He turned his eyes to the mountain they would reach before dark. The end of his journey. And probably the end of his life. He took a deep breath and turned his mount away from the ghost of the city of Men.

Dwalin and Nori led the way to the secret door. It was on the west face of the mountain, facing the Greenwood - perhaps to get messages to their allies there in time of need. There was nothing to distinguish the place as different than any other, except for small, weathered signs low on the rock. They weren't noticeable unless you were looking for them - or unless you were a scribe trained by Balin to see everything. Ori blushed when the other two named him as the one who had found their door, but the general rumble of approval made him smile.

The horses were nervous this close to the mountain. It seemed like the stench of death and dragon surrounded it (would they ever be able to get rid of it if they succeeded? Perhaps if they still lived and the dragon was dead they could just take some nice things and go home). There was little grazing for them as well. Thorin missed Kíli more than ever as he talked softly to his horse, praising its valor. He had no doubt his nephew would be able to get he horses to understand that their job was done and they could go home, and he hoped his own poor power was enough to get the idea across.

In fact, when turned loose, the horses turned south toward Laketown. Thorin breathed a sigh of relief and wished them well. The others had already put together as comfortable a camp as they could manage on the rocky side of the mountain. They sat and watched the sun set, minds two days in the future, wondering what would happen once that door opened.

Two days later, the mountain grew dark with shadows as they stared at the black hole wafting with the smell of dragon.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entering the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er... Hi! I got very caught up in other writing. I swear, I didn't mean to neglect Boarding, but I obviously have. But I'm back now! I hope....

"Now what?" someone asked and Thorin was too caught in dragon memories to know who.

He shook himself, trying to regain control, because this was always what it was coming to. "We need to go in," he said, and his voice didn't waver even a little. "We must know the truth of what is in there."

He looked at the Dwarves around him and they all looked just as unsettled as he felt. No one volunteered to go in, not even Nori who often claimed to be unafraid of anything. His eyes stopped on the redhead and he was about to ask it of him when a voice popped up next to him.

"It will require quiet, and I've yet to meet the Dwarf who could accomplish that, so it's clear who must go."

And before he could fully turn, Bell was off down the tunnel and almost out of sight. He tried to lunge after her, but Dwalin and Bofur caught hold of him and wouldn't let him go. One of Dwalin's hands covered his mouth as well.

"Be sensible," his cousin growled low. "She's faster than you are, and she's right that she can move more quietly than we can. The dragon must be asleep," he added, voice a fervent prayer, "and you'd be more likely to wake it and endanger her."

Thorin slumped in their grip, knowing it for the truth, and fell to his knees when they released him. He moaned low, staring after her, unsure if he could live with himself for bringing her into this. Unsure he could go on living if something happened to her while she was in there.

Someone stayed by his side for a while, and he wasn't aware when he left. They might have been talking to him, but he didn't hear them. All he heard was the silence from the tunnel. All he saw was the lack of his Bell. All he felt was _nothing_ \- no hand in his own, no plush cheek next to his, no swirl of skirts next to him.

He wasn't aware of his tears until a small hand started to brush at them and suddenly his wife was there and kissing him frantically. He gasped, reaching out to draw her closer. "Bell," he murmured between kisses, voice an uncontrolled sob. "My Bell."

She held him, kissed him, dried his tears. But when she spoke, it was to the whole group. "He is awake," she said fearfully. "He knows we're here! I don't think he will wait for us to go and take care of him."

Indeed, at that moment there was a roar that meant the dragon had breached the southern gates. They had no black arrows, nothing to shoot them with. They couldn't get close enough take advantage of a weakness or blind it. They could do nothing and the dragon was coming for them. It took Ori and Fíli and Bell to push and pull the older members of the company through the door and into the mountain. Memories of the last time the dragon came for them were too clear, here where it had all begun.

They had trouble with the door. It was meant as an escape route, meant to be closed from the outside. Closing it from the inside was harder, hard enough that they saw the dragon coming around the side of the mountain before they finally got it.

Smaug had seen them as well, and he roared his anger that they had closed the door on him. They heard the sound of fire and could feel the heat even through solid stone, but the door held. The wind from the dragon's wings was also heard, and for more than an hour they heard the dragon try to get to them through fire and strength.

Finally there was silence. But only for a single moment before the deep voice of the beast came to them.

"I could starve you to death in there. You don't dare go out into my mountain for fear of me, but now that I know where you are you can't hope to escape either. But I also smell Man on you, so I think I have to remind Laketown what it means to defy me. Don't think you can get away before I get back, little Dwarves. You will die up remembered in my mountain like so many of your kin."

Then there was true silence, but they felt anything but safe. Thorin held Bell and cursed wizards, arms trembling with the knowledge that they had brought the destruction of Laketown and their own deaths.

"If we hurry, we should be able to make it to Ravenhill," Dori ventured after a long time.

"And do what?" Nori snapped. "Die when he gets back? We'll do that anyway. Why hurry it along?"

"We can't stay here," someone said, and Thorin was surprised to find that it was him. "At least in the mountain proper we might be able to come up with something. We have some time before the beast returns."

None of them were content to wait, so they made their way up the tunnel. It came out in the treasury itself, although high up on the wall, which made Thorin wonder if the size of the treasury had been increased by the dragon in his time. They would have to do a lot of surveying to check the stability of the kingdom.

Except they wouldn't, because they would all soon be _dead_. It was no good to continually forget that this was a suicide mission.

He walked through the piles of gold in what he thought was the right direction and had no urge to stop, or even to slow down. It was apparently true that Dwarves had room in their hearts for only one great love, because the treasure held no attraction for him. Years and years of the fear that he would fall to gold madness as his grandfather and father had, and all the gold and jewels in the treasury meant less to him than the worn clothes on his wife's back.

The others followed, but slower, and they looked around in awe. As well they might, he had to concede. They had none of them seen this much wealth in more than a century, those who had ever seen it before. And even reeking of dragon and half destroyed, the beauty of Erebor was unmatched.

Thorin kept them moving, though. The dragon could have been bluffing and ready to come back at any moment. It could change its mind. The poor ceilings could cave in. There were any number of things that could go wrong.

So they made it through with the little that remained of their stores. And they bustled around the guardhouse on Ravenhill, cleaning, carefully moving long dead corpses, opening windows to let in light and to see the direction from which the dragon would be coming.

Fíli and Ori wanted to explore, especially in the treasury. Dwalin wanted to search through the armory. Thorin wanted to allow neither thing, but when it had been more than a day since Smaug left, he let them go with strict instructions on how long they could be away.

They obeyed, and the next day he allowed them longer. Others joined them in their explorations, and the third day they spent even longer. Finally, after four days, Thorin joined them himself, wearing the armor Dwalin had found in the armory and keeping every sense open.

But still the dragon didn't return. They picked through the treasury, looking for things that were pretty. They ranged through the less destroyed parts of the city looking for the dead to set honorably aside. Thorin went into the palace and found his mother's jewel box. He clutched it close, remembering her, and presented it to Bell.

And still, the dragon didn't come. They could have escaped and been safely under the trees of the Greenwood by now. But every day they waited was one day closer to the inevitable return and they found reasons to stay.

It was ten days when they finally saw something approaching through the windows. But it wasn't a dragon. It was the Men of Laketown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have picked up a hint of the ring. But they were too busy to actually remember it. It will likely come up later.
> 
> Also, I have scoured [Hollow Art](http://www.hollow-art.com/) and have found pbs for Bell and the children.  
> Bell is [JoAnna Garcia](http://www.hollow-art.com/base/joanna-garcia) (although with redder hair).  
> Calce is [Saoirse Ronan](http://www.hollow-art.com/content/saoirse-ronan).  
> The twins are [Elijah Wood](http://www.hollow-art.com/base/elijah-wood-young). I really tried not to, but he was the only one who really looked like what I wanted....  
> Amber is [Kirsten Dunst](http://www.hollow-art.com/base/kirsten-dunst-interview-vampire), although really only this specific role.  
> And Pearl is [Kara and Shelby Hoffman](http://www.hollow-art.com/base/kara-hoffman-shelby-hoffman-lemony-snicket) (because baby roles are played by twins).


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwarves and Men and Elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I promise frequent updates and then immediately realize that while I have a basic outline of what's going to happen next _that's not what you want to read_. So I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out specifics and I _think_ I can actually write the story now. Maybe.

"Bard Bargeman, it is good to see you living," Thorin greeted from outside the broken southern gates.

"They're calling me Bowman now," Bard sighed. "Since it was my arrow that killed the dragon."

Which meant that he had regained his family's honor. Thorin was pleased for him. "I wish you and your people good fortune now that it is slain."

Bard was unsmiling. "We have none to start with. Laketown has been destroyed along with its fields and there are many dead. I thought you said you would kill it here."

"I said I would try," Thorin said. "Killing a dragon is nine parts luck. We cannot revive the dead, but we will help feed and house you through the coming winter, and help rebuild Laketown or Dale or both in the spring."

"No!"

Thorin looked up, startled, to see his nephew skidding down the steep path.

"No, uncle! This is Dwarf gold! Men have no right to even one coin of it!"

Blue eyes burned into his own and Thorin shuddered. He had seen eyes like that long ago, when he was young and didn't understand. Now he did, and it was worse to see it in the eyes of his cheerful nephew.

"Mad as a Dwarvish prince indeed," Bard sneered, hand lowering to the knife at his belt and Fíli turned to glare up at him.  
Thorin wanted to respond - although what could he say? - but there was the sound of clattering hooves. The horse that rode up was frantic and lathered, prancing in place when Kíli launched himself off it until one of the Men took up its bridle and walked it in slow circles, speaking softly the whole time.

Kíli himself was also worked up and wild eyed. He knocked his brother down with his greeting, and the two stayed down for a long time, arms around one another. "You're alive," Kíli sobbed over and over.

Bard's eyes had softened, and when Thorin helped the boys up, he saw that Fíli's had as well. It was a puzzle he couldn't unravel. He had to speak to Bard from around his nephew, as Kíli's fierce embrace turned on him.

"There is much work to be done in Erebor, but you are welcome here, and all your people with you."

Bard turned suspiciously to Fíli, but whatever had smoothed away the gold sickness was lasting. He had nothing to say and hardly seemed to be listening with his brother back in his sight. It was distressing as well as confusing. Thorin didn't know what had come over his older nephew and he only wished they could go back to Bree where distance might help him.

Instead, he looked up at Bard and felt the mantle of rule fall over his shoulders. It was a physical weight, almost worse than Kíli hanging on him, and one he had thought would never truly be his. It was a weight he had gladly put aside during his life in Bree, and one he was loath to take up again. But what choice did he have? It was his burden, now more than ever.

He recognized the set of the Man's shoulders. Bard was feeling the same weight, and he had no training or inclination toward it. He was the heir of Girion, four generations removed from the responsibilities of rule, and the dragon slayer. He had as little choice and far less understanding. Thorin felt an extra surge of kinship and stepped forward with his hands out.

Bard startled slightly, a frown still on his brow, but he must have seen something in Thorin's eyes and he took the offered hands. "We... Would be grateful for your aid," he said softly. "I would like to bring back my children, but there was nowhere to bring them to."

"There still isn't," Thorin said wryly. "There has been a dragon in this mountain for more than a century. There is no food nor homes. We will have to send someone south or east instantly if we want to have food for the winter."

The Man sized him up. "One of our merchants should do it. Unless you send to Dwarves, it is the only way to get a proper deal."

"I do know it," Thorin answered with a sigh. "That will have to change, but it will not instantly. I will send to my cousin Dáin in the Iron Hills as well. Many there will want to come home." He would send Fíli. If his nephew was suffering gold madness, he wanted the lad away.

He sent Bifur with Fíli in the end, not quite trusting his nephew far enough to give him money. And he pulled Bifur aside before they left to let him know what had happened when the Men arrived. Bifur would watch Fíli carefully, and Thorin trusted that the man wouldn't let him fall to the dragon sickness.

A group of almost ten Men went south with more of the money in the treasury. Gondor and Rohan would have surpluses they would be willing to sell, but no caravan would make its way north with the dragon and the poverty that came with it. Laketown and the northern cities sent their traders south, and those Men quickly became rich because they were the only ones who brought needed goods.

In other times, Thorin might have been loathe to give money to Men to trade on his behalf, but there was so much in the treasury that even if they stole it it would leave no dent. And the money was being spent on their behalf as well, so there was no reason for them to steal from him now and have no chance of more of the gold later.

The rest of them settled in to cleaning. With almost half of Laketown's people - those who hadn't gone to Mirkwood or been killed - they needed far more than the old guard tower. They scrubbed and scoured the feast kitchens and pooled all their food together. It was a pitiful amount of food for how many of them there were - a starving amount if that was all they would have for the winter. Prayers were sent after both groups who were going for help.

Thorin set no guards over the treasury. There was enough gold in it that even if every Man stole his weight in it it would make no dent. Besides, the dragon had done much destruction and made the room larger so he could bring in more treasure. There were openings at different levels of the wall, many where there had been no entry before the dragon. There was no way to guard all the entries, and guarding one or two would just make people more interested in sneaking in. That was what Nori told him, and he was inclined to trust him.

Instead, he worked with Bard to make sure there was so much work no one had time to sneak into the treasury. It wasn't hard to accomplish with over a century of neglect. There were dead to find and lay to honored rest. There were homes to clean and prepare for living. There were air vents and heating pipes to find and examine. There were gates to fix. There were structures to check for stability. There was enough for more than one lifetime of Dwarves, and Thorin despaired of ever having Erebor be glorious again.

They did their best, for a mixed group of Men and Dwarves. But in the end, their best wasn't really all that good. The Men had rarely seen Dwarves and grew up with stories about Dale and how the Dwarves had lost it for them. The Dwarves had spent a century trying to eek out a living among Men in many kingdoms who were unsympathetic. Putting the two groups together was never going to cause anything but friction. From Dori's thin mouthed disapproval of having Men in Erebor before the majority of Dwarves to one of the Men complaining about the lack of railings giving him vertigo.

Thorin did his best to stave off the worst of the problems. He did more than his share of the work to show the Men that Dwarves were hard workers. He made time to listen to anyone who came to him with a problem, no matter who they were. He gave much of his share of food to others to show he wasn't greedy. He did everything he could think of.

It wasn't always enough. It wasn't enough when Bard didn't know anything of rule and all of the burden of justice fell to Thorin. It wasn't enough when Men complained to Bard that the Dwarf favored his own people. It wasn't enough when the Men treated them the way Men always did, and his people didn't always understand why they had to give concessions.

Only Bell. The only peace he had was with Bell, wrapped in her arms, his head resting on her breast. She played with his hair and sang to him, the same songs she sang to the children. She rocked him and reinforced him. And then she went out among the Men and drew their goodwill.

Lookouts in the towers kept their eyes peeled east and south, looking for the return of their messengers. They should have set someone facing west, because that was where the first contingent arrived from, more than a week later. Thranduil marched from his woodland kingdom with a force of over a hundred Elves and came to the great southern gates.

Thorin went down to meet with him as he had met with the Men. Kíli was above with his bow prepared - although if he had cause to use it, there would be no hope of saving Thorin. The Elf king looked down his nose at him, and Thorin knew he looked a sight after a week of infrequent washing and too few changes of clothes. He must have smelled to the heavens, although he had stopped being able to smell himself and his comrades. The Elves all made faces and backed away.

"The dragon is gone and the time for renewing old ties has come."

Thorin scowled and crossed his arms. "Of course, now that we have what is ours."

The Elf blinked slowly. "We are here for what we are owed. Greenwood has little enough food with the troubles under our boughs and to be given so many guests with no warning has taxed us greatly."

"And you come with an army to pursue your payment?" Thorin spat.

To his credit, Thranduil seemed honestly surprised at the accusation. But he merely raised a brow. "We come as those who know the nature of Dwarves."

"You know nothing of Dwarves," Thorin growled, face twisting in anger. "Only of your own selfish desires."

Before Thranduil could speak, the eldest of his children stepped forward. Elugelon went down on one knee to be closer in height, unconcerned for the state of his russet and green finery.

"My friend, I come to ask your help with the trouble we experience. It is a burden we have undertaken without complaint, and one that will leave us hungry through the winter. With farmland destroyed and winter coming soon, we have no choice but to ask our neighbors for help."

Thorin wavered, but his anger at Thranduil and his hatred of Elves couldn't survive the rational calm of Elugelon's speech. "We are sending for food already," he muttered. "Of course you may share it."

The Elf prince smiled at him, but a halloo from above forestalled conversation. There was movement to the east. The dust from the column of Dwarves heading their way from the Iron Hills was vast enough to see from a distance that would take at least two days to cover. Joy blazed in Thorin's heart until there was another halloo, this one coming from a rider leaping of a horse more than half dead and running the last distance to the gates.

Orcs were coming from the south.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be noted: I hate writing battles.

The signal tower was in good condition. It was narrow and high and the dragon had never gone up into it. Thorin climbed the long stairs with Ori trailing behind and cleaned the century of spiders and dust off the mirror. If he had forgotten the signals, Ori was there to remind him. But he knew, even if none of those coming from the Iron Hills did, and could send a warning message easily. He would not have Fíli and those with him come upon Orcs unaware.

He left Ori up in the tower to watch for a reply that likely wouldn't come. If anyone could read the reply, it would be Ori with his eidetic memory and Balin's training. And he left orders that Ori was to _stay there_ and watch for replies. At least one of them should be in safety.

By the time he returned, Dwalin, Elugelon, and Bard were already making plans. Elves and Men filled the armory, looking for things that would fit their size and fighting styles. Thorin thought that he should be angry at their presence in his stronghold, but they were all in danger. He joined the leaders and let Dwalin go arm himself and his friends. If anyone could ensure they were all well armed, it would be Dwalin.

They sent runners, mostly Elves, searching along the sides of the destroyed south gates. Thorin remembered there had been stores of oil for boiling and flinging down on attackers, and ballistas nearby that could be armed with flaming shot. They were low on oil and would have to use it sparingly, but fire wouldn't be a problem and they had the bolts for the ballistas, and could set them aflame easily.

They found the old maps of the mountain and Elugelon chose good high ground for his archers. Again, it felt like it should be a trespass to have Elves in Erebor's defense, but Thorin was glad for them now against the Orcs. Elves were famously good shots and they had many arrows that could be used to good effect from a distance. The archers trooped off as soon as they were told their position so they could do any cleaning they needed to and get used to the distance and crosswinds.

Thorin out Kíli with the archers as well, despite his nephew's protests. Fíli was well out of it and he would have Kíli as safe as possible as well. On the archery line, he would be out of the range of attack. Orcs liked to get up close and personal with their prey. They rarely planned for distance. And even if they had, a treacherous voice in his head said, Kíli would be one among many, and the taller Elves would be the first to fall.

Dwalin insisted they sleep. The guards and lookouts changed in their usual rotation, but everyone else was to try and sleep. The Men found it hard - they had led a mostly peaceful life, and that wasn't something that led them to be able to sleep when tense. Thorin had the wandering, bloody background that made him able to take what rest was available to him. He pressed Bell to him, murmuring soothing words and hoping she would be safe.

When morning came they could see smoke from the fires in the woods and what Elves remained with the rest of them mourned. The Dwarves marching from the east were noticeably closer, which was cheering. But they could see a black pall in the south, heralding the Orcs. They looked on it and trembled. They watched the whole day, wondering who would arrive first, and set their lookouts for the night watch.

The morning didn't come. When Thorin woke, it was still dark as though a curtain covered the sun. The Orcs must have marched through the night, because they were almost at the gates when Men and Dwarves looked out of the mountain. There was no time to berate the lookouts, because they had to rush out in force and hope the Elves could provide them cover fire.

Thorin had Orcrist heavy in his hands and Deathless strapped to his back and was among the first to leave through the gates. He stumbled almost instantly, seeing some of the men fall to their knees next to him. The darkness was oppressive in a way that stormy days usually weren't.

He regained his feet as quickly as he could because Orcs were coming and he couldn't let a sense of something _wrong_ let him be killed. An army of mixed Elves, Dwarves, and Men were counting on him to help lead the battle down here. The darkness wasn't a hindrance - it was simple to tell Orcs from allies. And the paranoia that the darkness brought with it saved his life more than once, making him edgy enough to be watching everywhere at once.

Arrows rained down from above, finding the Orcs and not the free peoples. Swords flashed in the air. The ground was slick with blood both red and black. The air was full of the screams of the dying. Thorin's nose grew used to the reek of blood and bowels. And still he was pushed back by the enemy and pushed forward in turn. There seemed no end of the Orcs.

He knew when Fíli joined the fight, hundreds of Dwarves ramming the Orcs from the side, joining with a hail of arrows to bring down almost all of that flank of enemy. And even with the oppressive darkness it felt like they could win.

Kíli's scream was far too close - he was supposed to be with the archers! - when a mace sent Fíli spinning and falling to the ground. There was another scream that sounded like Bell, and she was suddenly in view, shining sword swinging in the defensive arcs she'd been taught as she slid through ogre to her nephew's side. Thorin drove himself in that direction, because he could stand to lose neither of them.

Kili was at his side, beating away the weapons of the enemy and pushing with him. He was distracted, looking toward his brother constantly. And Bell had gotten there and was standing over Fíli like an avenging spirit, but Orcs were converging on her, hissing anger at the light of her sword, and Thorin knew if he didn't reach her she was done for.

She took a glancing blow to her side, and Thorin stumbled again, the darkness around him pouring into his soul and dragging him down. But there was a gleam of light even in the darkness and the flash of mithril under her shirt lifted him back. With new strength in his arm he finally reached her, the Orcs breaking into a run to escape the fury of his sword.

And there was no time to kiss her and assure himself that she was safe, because they were still in the middle of battle and they had to protect Fíli. There was no time to see if he was even still breathing, but if they were pushed even two steps out of the way he would be trampled to mash and unidentifiable later. Thorin planted himself like stone and kept his eyes open.

What he saw was amazing to him. The Orcs were breaking and running against the renewed fury of the allies. Thorin held his spot, swinging at any who came too close, but rejoiced as the enemy fled.

But only for a moment, because the darkness congealed to a swirling vortex that spoke in a terrible voice that cut through flesh like a sharp knife and seemed to flay into Thorin's very mind.

_**Turn, cowards. You were created for war and not for life. Turn and face a war you cannot lose. Not while I am here. What are Men, Dwarves, and Elves to you? Nothing but flesh to feast on when this is over.** _

Thorin shuddered and fell to his knees, only managing by sheer force of will to continue protecting Fíli. And, in the moments of clarity he had when the voice paused, he saw that he wasn't the only one to lose his footing. The battle had completely paused. Even the Orcs were cringing down as if they couldn't take the voice of what had to be their master.

_**Do you still fear this rabble? They are easy to make turn tail! We know what they fear!** _

And the cloud of darkness streamed in to a point and then burgeoned out again, this time with a form. A form great and terrible that made the Dwarves on the field moan. It was a dragon, jet black and massive. It no longer spoke, but they could see the breath drawn for fire and the way it turned its head almost toward Thorin and his family, but not quite. People dove out of the way, pulling injured with them. Men tugged at Dwarves to counter their shorter legs. Dwarves with their greater strength lifted the fallen. They even grabbed at Orcs, who helped pull them to safety in turn.

A stream of fire so hot it was mostly seen as a ripple in the air burst forth, creating a line of glass in the dust, molten and fiery. Thorin felt it from a distance and through all of the fleeing armies. And over all of the chaos was the terrible laugh of the dragon, glorying in the terror and destruction.

But the laugh stuttered and faded, turning instead into a wail as the form of the dragon faded and became a vortex of darkness once again. The combined armies of all peoples of Arda cowered and watched as the darkness dispersed and the voice faded. They shivered in common, mindless creatures alike in their terror, then blinked into the brightness of the evening sun as if they woke from a dream.

The Orcs screamed and ran, and the allies had no will to chase them. Knowing nothing except they had somehow won, Thorin finally turned his attention to Fíli, whose breath was shallow and stuttering but present, and allowed himself to believe that they had lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Not even dragon fire could destroy the one ring. But if the dragon in question is _Sauron_.... I completely stand behind my decision.
> 
> And yes, since I'm sure that wasn't really clear. Bell was wearing the ring into battle and it slipped off her finger. When Sauron let out the burst of white hot fire, he was unconsciously aiming at the ring, _which had been trying to get his attention_. And then it was destroyed. And then he was destroyed.
> 
> I mostly just wanted to take care of the damn thing now. No War of the Ring for this story!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the last month and a half has been crazy at work. And in all of that, my brain refused to concentrate on anything more than shorts ([Shorts to Keep Me Writing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1024357) has a lot of shorts for Boarding, all neatly labeled, if you have somehow missed them). This was especially annoying, as this is the last chapter!
> 
> Not the end of the story, though. I want to take some time to work on [Something Tells Me...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1002008), because that's another one I haven't actually worked on in ages. But then! Thorin and his family will have to deal with rebuilding, interspecies diplomacy, and Dwarf politics (among other things, the question of succession). So stay tuned, because I'm hoping I'll have enough time this summer to do a bunch of writing in between all the things I have to do for work.
> 
> Also, I have finally broken down and gotten [a tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard). Feel free to add me and bug me to write. Or ask questions. Or just say hi.

Thorin was a bad example to his nephew, or so he was told by the healers. He had given them time to clean and bind his wounds, and then he was up on his feet. There was too much to do - too much a king had to do - and that couldn't be left to others. Not so soon after they had regained Erebor. They were not vassals to the Greenwood and he would not let Thranduil do duties that were his own. And Bard, who he might have trusted, didn't know what to do.

So he left the healing tents, hearing the healers threaten to tie Kíli down to keep him in his own cot to rest, leaving his Bell too pale but able to kiss him goodbye, leaving Fíli in a sleep they could not predict the length of. Dwalin met up with him, along with Bifur and Bard and some of the other still living fighters.

They walked through the fields of battle, stopping at each body. The dead were folded neatly ready for what would come next, be it a mass burial or a pyre. The living were harder in a lot of ways. Either they had to send for runners to bring the living to healers who were already overtaxed with the injured, or they had to make the decision to help them move on.

Thorin did it when it was needed, as he had before at Azanulbizar, leaning close and whispering softly to the dying and then easing his way. It never grew easier. He then made it his duty to fold their hands around their weapons and neaten them.  
It was not easy and it was not brief. The battle had ranged over much of the southern face of the mountain. It was night by the time they had been able to begin, walking with torches to see their way. Many of the dead had been trampled past recognition. And there was the area of glass that was still slowly pinging its way to coolness. Everyone tried to avoid even looking at it.

Orc bodies they found were all the dead, stripped of armor and weapons and left unceremoniously as they had fallen. It was grave disrespect to the dead, but Orcs were Orcs, and they left them.

Until they found one living. It sat on the blood soaked ground, bent low over another body. Thorin felt those around him shift and ease their weapons loose, but he just strode forward until he could see that the body was an injured Orc, not a dead one. He stared a long moment, remembering another battleground and one he had found too late.

"Bring them," he ordered, turning abruptly. There were mutters, but the Orcs were lifted and carried behind the group back to the healers and their tents.

"Heal it," he said, nodding to the Orc. And there were the protests he had expected. "Enough are dead," he said, voice quiet but cutting off argument. "Enough brothers have been mourned."

Dwalin looked at him sharply, but added his barking order to Thorin's instruction. They watched the pair taken into a tent that had guards of Men, Elves, and Dwarves all set on it. And then they returned to the tents themselves. It was less than a day later, and they both had serious wounds that had been aggravated by their search.

He called for paper as soon as he woke, and someone sent him Ori. The youth had dutifully stayed in the tower and suffered no hurts. With everything else, Thorin was grateful for that. He pushed himself to sit, ignoring how it hurt. Ori sat next to him, arm around him to help.

"The dead," Thorin said, voice a croak.

Ori cut him off. "Elugelon and his archers gathered them together. They wait only the decision on what to do with them."

"I fear they will have to be burned," Thorin said with regret.

But Ori just nodded. "There aren't many trees around, so it can't be a wood pyre, but some of Bard's men know how to make woodless fires and have already started work on it. Thranduil and the Elves will be returning to the Greenwood as soon as they can to see what damage the Orcs did to it on their way north."

Thorin found himself lying down and looking up at Ori as he gave his report on the state of the unified army of free peoples. He wondered how that had happened, but Ori had been well taught in how to manage people. It was one of Balin's finest skills, and it seemed he had passed it on to his apprentice.

Knowing that it would be meaningless to protest, Thorin allowed himself to lie back, his muscles slowly relaxing into the support of the cot. He listened closely to the report of their losses, nodding sad understanding. He listened while Ori told him of the battle as he had seen it from the tower. He gave his opinions on all of the decisions that had to be made, and he knew that Ori would remember them and see them done.

He listened to the list of those who had come with Bifur and Fíli back to Erebor - those who had fled to the safety of the Iron Hills and taken their patronage and protection away from the poorer exiles of Erebor but returned as soon as they had thought it safe. Poor enough welcome they had received there, but Thorin couldn't find it in him to be sorry they had had to fight for their home. Not the best sign of a king, perhaps, but he had never felt like one and he still didn't.

He wished he could go home to Bree. Go home to his smithy and the quiet ease of life there. But he knew he couldn't. The dragon was truly gone now. It was time for Erebor's Dwarves to come home to the mountain. Even if it meant lifetimes fixing it to safety and prosperity again, it was theirs. And he knew for himself that there was little enough safety for Dwarves in the lands of Men.

But he couldn't think of the past - not the distant wonder of his childhood or the more recent hardships. He had to think of the future now. He had to plot the course forward, and he couldn't let the past decide that. He had to keep steady and think of the needs of his people. He had to think of alliances, and reputation. He had to think of the reality of the destruction of his kingdom and decide what could be repaired and what had to be destroyed and built anew. Erebor would not be what it had been, and he _could not_ let memories cloud his judgment.

He quietly asked Ori to help him write letters, and the youth pulled a writing box from somewhere - Thorin had never questioned the magic that let Balin always have his writing tools to hand no matter where they were, and he wasn't going to start questioning it now.

> _Balin,_
> 
> _We have regained Erebor and the dragon is dead. The mountain is in ruins - the dragon had no care for it and destroyed much during his time. It will take more time than either of us have left on this earth to see it restored - if it can be restored at all! The descendents of Dale live with us this winter and we will work together to see both kingdoms rebuilt._
> 
> _It is too late in the season to travel now; I'm sure the passes will have closed behind the messenger I send to you. Use this time well. Speak to those of our people who are in Ered Luin. Find the ones who might want to return east. They will be welcome._
> 
> _If you can be spared by those who choose to remain, I hope you will come too. I miss your counsel and your company._
> 
> _Thorin II_
> 
> _King Under the Mountain_

The letter to Dís was far shorter.

> _Sister,_
> 
> _We all live. Come home._
> 
> _Thorin_

And then there was nothing to do but heal.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, nine pages of this. Where did it all come from? I was planning on working on one of the Line of Durin sides today, and then this.


End file.
